#this isn’t even a flex cause it’s New York this is like every day

[yimra]

Some guy was saying slurs at me cause he thinks I cut him off (I may have, and he is as assuming I was Hispanic) and I was tired so I just told him to “shut the fuck up and go back to your shift at chick-fil-a cracker” then he called me the N word and frankly you can’t really out do that

[keanureevesisbae]

But professor… - c.6

Summary: Walter and Penny are going on a little trip together

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: Some love making (sex, , blowjob)

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter //

When Walter says he’s got it covered, he sure does have it covered. Because he didn’t want us to run into someone we might know, he arranged a flight in the middle of the night. The hours went by slowly, but being curled up next to Walter was so lovely and such a delight.

We checked into our hotel, got to our room and I fell asleep immediately. I’ve been on a few plane flights, but this was different, especially because I couldn’t really fall asleep whilst being in the air, despite it was midnight.

Walter has taken his boyfriend job (because yes, he is my boyfriend) to a whole new level. Always carrying the bags, doesn’t want me to do any sort of work and that includes him preparing breakfast, lunch and dinner. ‘I want you to relax, princess,’ he tells me whenever I say I can do something as well. ‘You worked hard for your assignments, you should take it easy.’

I watch him tying his shoelaces, since we’re going to the beach. He grabs his bag when he’s done and smiles when his eyes land on me. ‘What?’ he asks.

‘Nothing,’ I chuckle. ‘You’re just too cute.’

‘Ai, princess, don’t call me cute. I have a reputation to hold.’

I pout. ‘No one in Hawaii knows us,’ I say, ‘so don’t you worry too much about it.’

Walter holds out his hand for me to take and together we walk out of our hotel room. We’ve been here for almost two days, but it’s still a little bit surreal to walk around with him this freely. No need to worry about someone catching us. Slowly exploring our relationship and deepening it every second we spend together.

Walter squeezes my hand as we exit the building and we walk out into the warmth. It’s weird to spend a winter not in the freezing cold. From what I’ve heard, it started snowing back in New York and Maryland. While a white Christmas would be lovely, sure, I’m glad that the temperatures are a bit nicer here and I’m able to lay in the sun a bit.

After a little walk, Walter and I arrive at the beach and I place down my towel, before taking off my thin dress. As I’m folding the fabric into a little packet, Walter has clearly been distracted.

By me.

‘What?’ I ask with a chuckle, smacking his chest.

‘Nothing,’ he laughs, ‘you’re just so beautiful.’ He leans down to peck my lips, before he takes off his own shirt. He immediately attracts the attention of a few ladies and I clench my jaw. I mean, of course Walter is beautiful and handsome and totally forces you unintentionally to look at him, but…

He is my boyfriend.

‘Are you jealous?’ he chuckles.

‘No,’ I mumble, but it’s obviously a lie. ‘Maybe a little.’

‘Penny Townsend can be jealous.’ He holds my face in his hands. ‘Good to know, but remember: you are the only one I want and my heart is all yours.’

He always knows the exact right thing to make me feel at ease. He places his towel on the sand and pulls me with him as we both sit down. We both sit and enjoy the sun. I close my eyes, as I let the soft sun rays warm me.

Walter pushes a strand of hair behind my ears. ‘You can relax, princess.’

‘I am relaxed.’

‘No, you are flexing, thus not breathing correctly.’

I look down at my “flat” stomach, realizing that I’m indeed flexing. It’s just that I want to look extra good, especially in a bikini.

‘It’s normal,’ he continues, ‘besides, you don’t need to impress anyone here. You’re gorgeous.’

I sigh, before I relax, quit sucking in. It’s a lot more comfortable, I agree, but I can’t stop being highly self conscious. I shouldn’t have worn this blush pink bikini with the little daisies on it. It’s not flattering and—

‘Okay,’ Walter says, when he gets on his back, ‘you’re getting into your head and you shouldn’t do that.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I get on my back as well and place my head on his outstretched arm. ‘It’s just that… This bikini makes me look okay, right?’

‘Oh, princess, more than okay. No one is prettier than you. I love you so much.’

I smile. ‘You’re too sweet.’

Walter stretches his neck to check something in the distance. He mutters something under his breath and I ask him what’s wrong. ‘Just some creep staring at you. Try to stay on your back, princess.’

‘Why?’ I ask, looking over to see indeed someone staring.

‘Because this bikini bottom is very beautiful, but also a bit revealing. Besides, this dickhead has some fucking nerve staring at you like this while it’s pretty obvious that you are with me.’ He gives me a kiss on my forehead and says: ‘Stay here.’ He is already sitting, when the creep swiftly turns around and walks away. ‘That’s what I thought.’

He pulls me in between his legs and wraps his arms around my waist. He places his hands on my stomach, drawing soft circles on my skin.

I stare over the water and I have to admit that Hawaiian view is much different than the views I’m used to, but also so beautiful. I lean back against his chest and whisper: ‘I love you, Walter.’

He chuckles. ‘Oh, princess, I love you too.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Walter and I are probably the laziest couple out there, but experiencing some jet lag isn’t helping. When we got back from the beach, we took a quick shower, ordered some food and watched some movies.

Later that night, after dinner and mid movie, I ended up sitting on his lap, his hands on my hips with a tight grip. His kisses are turning sloppier than they’ve ever been, but it doesn’t surprise me at all. That creep at the beach is obviously still bothering him and it hasn’t helped at all that another man stared at me when Walter was away for a few seconds to grab something

‘You’re mine,’ Walter whispers against my lips. ‘You know that, right?’

I nod, my center beginning to burn in sensation and excitement. ‘I know that.’

He pulls back and he is actually panting a bit. ‘You’re breathtakingly gorgeous, that’s a fact. I know that, but that doesn’t give men the right to gawk at you when I stand right next to you.’

‘Aren’t you slightly possessive.’

He scoffs. ‘You can’t blame me. That little creep Fitzgerald keeps walking you to your room, staring at you during my class and Lord knows during the others. Now we’re in Hawaii, surrounded by other creeps.’

I smile in absolute adoration. ‘Walter, you’re the only one I want. I don’t even notice those looks.’

‘I know,’ he says, ‘and I don’t want you to notice them, because they don’t deserve your attention for one second. I just need them to stop gawking.’ His lips attack my neck and I bite my bottom lip, to prevent myself from moaning out loud.

We’ve been having more and more sex and slowly but surely he drops his carefulness and ravishes me completely. I hand over control so easily, but it happens so naturally. He knows me better than I know myself. From a mile away he can spot if I’m uncomfortable or not.

With one swift movement he undoes me from the shirt I was wearing after the shower and he can’t stop his grin. ‘No underwear,’ he chuckles. ‘Lemme guess, you did that for me.’

‘No,’ I snicker, ‘I was too lazy to put on underwear.’

He scoffs. ‘It’s for me.’ He rolls us over on the couch and I squeal when I plop down on my back. ‘You want this?’

I nod. ‘Please.’

Walter has this satisfied grin on his face, before his lips attack every part of my body. He squeezes in the flesh of my thighs and I grow more and more desperate for him. ‘That’s my girl,’ he says with a chuckle. ‘Telling me exactly how she feels.’

I grab a bit of his shirt and ask: ‘No teasing today, okay?’

He frowns. ‘Why not?’

‘I need you,’ I whisper, ‘and I’m too impatient for teasing.’

‘You’re lucky I can’t say not to you,’ he whispers, as he presses a delicate kiss on my inner thigh. ‘I love you, Penny.’

I smile. ‘I love you too, Walter.’

✎ ✎ ✎

I think I walk a little bit differently when Walter and I go out of our room to go to the twenty four seven game hall the hotel has. We are experiencing some issues sleeping due to the time difference, so we decide to take a look. ‘It’s almost like we’re in Vegas after all,’ I say to him, holding onto his hand tightly.

‘It sure is.’

We spend our time playing different games, Walter making a ton of pictures of me and eventually I end up on his lap, as he helps me with the easiest game of pac man. It’s a lot harder than I originally thought it would be. He wraps his hand around mine when I hold the joystick and gives me kisses on my shoulder when it goes well. I squeal on his lap, quickly continuing to play. His grip however tightens around my waist. ‘Princess, careful now,’ he mumbles in my ear. ‘Because what you and I did a few hours ago, I can do it over and over and over again. But you… I barely think you can, especially with the way you are walking now.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper, pushing my legs together. It’s the first time he actually said something like that to me, let alone in a public place.

He kisses my shoulder, as his hand slips underneath my shirt and says: ‘You’re still wiggling.’

‘That’s because my feet can’t reach the floor and I’m nearly sliding off your lap,’ I quickly say, hoping he is taking a little bit of mercy on me. I mean, he completely and lovingly destroyed me already, causing me to walk a little bit funny.

He can do that again.

Walter smiles, pulls me better on his lap and gives me a kiss. ‘Princess, you’re cute.’ His fingers draw circles over my stomach after he slipped his hand underneath my shirt and I feel this need to keep it in, flex it again. ‘Don’t do that,’ he says. ‘Be yourself, it’s totally okay.’ His hand slides up and cups my bare breast, since he told me not to wear a bra underneath this oversized shirt. There is no one here and since we’re hidden in a darker corner of the hall, no one will see us. ‘So perfect,’ he whispers, pressing a kiss on my jaw. ‘There are tons of things I still want to do with you. You want that, princess?’

I nod. ‘I want to.’

His hand descends from my sensitive breast further south, into my flimsy short. Two fingers slide through my swollen lips, causing me to clench my thighs together. ‘Wanna go upstairs now?’ he asks in a soft tone.

I nod and slide off his lap.

He holds my hand securely in his and he has a smile on his face, satisfied with the situation. We step into the elevator, just the two of us and I press a kiss on his lips.

The second the of our room door closes behind us, he pushes me against it. ‘I love you,’ he whispers, ‘I love you so much.’ He undoes me from my clothing and says: ‘You’re so beautiful.’

I smile to mask my slight embarrassment and help him taking off his shirt. ‘I love you too,’ I whisper, placing my hand on his broad chest, as Walter takes off his shorts. He lifts me up and I wrap my arms and legs around him.

He carries me to our bedroom and doesn’t even waste a second diving in between my legs, the second my back touches the mattress. I pull his hair, as I gasp for air. ‘Shit, Walter.’

My legs already tremble, but he pushes them down, making it impossible for me to move them.

‘That’s my girl,’ he whispers, ‘doing so well and shit, you taste so good.’

He wraps his lips around my clit and moans against it. He knows exactly what he is doing, what buttons to push to make me go crazy. While I told him not to tease me earlier, he now completely dismisses that. When he can feel and can tell I’m so close, sits up straight, licking his lips.

My breathing is heavy and I run my fingers through my hair. ‘Why did you stop?’

He chuckles. ‘Get on all fours, princess,’ he says and my eyes enlarge. We’ve never done that position, always the same old and known missionary. ‘You can do it.’

‘Sure?’

‘I’m sure, darling.’ He pulls me up by my wrists and gives me a kiss, allowing me to taste myself on his lips. ‘Don’t feel insecure, you’re with me. I’ll take good care of you.’

I know that. I quickly nod and he takes that as a sign to turn me around and get me into the position he wants me to be in. It feels so strange, my chin resting on the mattress, my back bend and butt in the air. He kneads the flesh of my behind and clicks his tongue in approval. ‘Oh, aren’t you beautiful, my darling.’ I hear him opening a condom package and the anticipation of me not knowing when he’ll slide inside, makes me throb even more. He teases his tip near my entrance and with one swift motion he has pushed in his entire length deep inside of me. I let out a strangled moan. He feels so good, filling me up completely and hitting the right spots.

‘That’s it, princess,’ Walter says, ‘you’re doing so good.’ He holds my hips tightly, rocking in back and forth, setting a steady pace. I fist the sheets and he lets out a loud grunt when I tighten around him. ‘Already?’ he asks in a cocky tone. ‘Oh, aren’t you an eager little princess.’

My toes start to curl and my high pitched moan is muffled down when I bury my face in the sheets. Tears trip over my cheeks, wetting the soft fabric. He doesn’t stop, oh no, it would be totally out of character if he did, but I reach my hand back, placing it on his and say: ‘Stop, Walter, please, I can’t anymore.’

That’s all I need to say, for him to gently pull out and he watches me become one with the bed. ‘Talk to me, princess,’ he says. ‘Please, talk to me.’

‘I’m okay, I’m okay,’ I quickly say, ‘shit, it’s just so sensitive.’

He smiles, placing his hand on my cheek. ‘I’m sorry, darling. You’re just insatiable.’

‘That’s good to know.’ I turn on my back and take a deep breath. ‘I don’t think I can walk tomorrow.’

‘Good thing we don’t have any plans.’

I let my eyes wander over his entire body, seeing his cock still hard, as he is sitting on the mattress. I turn back on my stomach and crawl in between his outstretched legs. Slowly but surely, we’ve been practicing me to take more and more of him in my mouth, my gag reflex slowly numbing down.

I wrap my hand around his hard length and my eyes look up. ‘Walter,’ I whisper, ‘relax.’

He chuckles. ‘I’m relaxed, princess.’

‘You’re not,’ I say. ‘Please, do it for me.’

He leans back against the headrest of the bed. ‘Okay, I’ll try.’

I open my mouth, wrapping my lips around him. He places his hand on the back of my head and a grunt fills the room when I let my tongue circle around his tip. Without thinking about it, he slightly forces my head a little bit lower and when he hits the back of my throat, I manage to ignore my gag reflex.

‘Princess,’ he says, ‘you’re doing well. This is the deepest you’ve ever done. I’m proud of you.’

I take a deep breath through my nose and the remainder of his cock I massage with my hands. He pulls my hair, before he bucks up his hips. He slides down a lot deeper than I am used to, but it works.

Holy shit, I can deep throat.

I let him exit my mouth and take a deep breath.

‘That’s my girl,’ he says, ‘you did great, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.’

I pump his length and judging from his moans, he is close. I quickly take him in my mouth again, letting him slide in deep in the back of me throat again and his warm seed fills my mouth and it slides down my throat. He is getting so insanely loud, as he rides out his high, forcing himself deeper and deeper.

‘I’m one lucky guy,’ he pants, gently pulling my head back so I look at him. ‘Now give me a kiss, princess.’

[rivers-rambles21]

The one with the ring

Part 9 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from  a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, (later chapters)

Chapter 9 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

As the weeks went by Bucky slipped further and further into his own personal hell.

You’d asked if he could show you how to use some equipment at the gym and help you with the weights. Working out is the easy part but seeing you in your gym gear? That was a different level. Your leggings clung to your every curve and it took every ounce of Bucky’s willpower not to stare at you - he did however notice other men in the gym didn’t have the same consideration so he made a point to stare back until they averted their gaze. 

You’d found you enjoyed boxing more than you’d anticipated. Bucky had suggested it after you’d had a difficult day at work and wanted to relieve stress. He never engaged in fighting with you but he did help with your form and footwork.

Rather selfishly though, he saw it as an opportunity to touch you at every chance he got. Whether it was how to grip your hand for a punch, moving your hips to help your footwork or blocking your attacks. He couldn’t get enough. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, trying to tape your hands up. 

Walking over to you, Bucky took one of your hands in his and began taping your hand up correctly. It had become a common routine which neither of you were interested in stopping. 

You tried your best to not sigh as he gently stroked your palm before taking your other hand, repeating the process. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, his eyes not meeting yours. 

“We don’t have to, but I know what it meant to you - the shield-” 

“He never should’ve given it up.” He replied, interrupting you, holding onto your hand which was now taped up. He gently rubbed his thumb over your palm, almost hypnotized by the tape covering it. “I’m going to go see him, I might be gone for a while.” His eyes finally met yours as he gazed back at you. You couldn’t help but notice the sadness in his eyes. You’d become used to his usual broody resting bitch face, especially during the morning (safe to say Bucky definitely isn’t a morning person) but this broke your heart. You knew he had his demons, despite him being generally quiet on the subject and you also knew Steve’s departure had hit him hard. You were hoping one day he’d open up more to you but you didn’t push it. 

“I understand… I’ll miss you though.” You smiled at him although it didn’t quite meet your eyes. Having Bucky in your life filled a void that had been missing for as long as you could remember; he was the only constant you had. 

“Yeah?” He smirked back - inside he was gleaming. 

“Whether you like it or not Buck, you’re my friend” His smirk faltered at the mention of being your friend “plus I’ve only just started bulking up! All this hard work will go to waste” You flexed your arm, attempting to show off your progress, causing him to chuckle. 

“C’mon doll, show me what you’re working with” He let go of your free hand, not realising he’d been holding on all this time and reached for your boxing gloves, throwing them your way as he climbed into the ring. 

You spent the rest of the afternoon together, heading to your local coffee shop after finishing up at the gym. Although he’d quickly gotten to grips with modern technology, he was still a bit shaky on booking flights so you helped him make the reservation and booked a hotel room for him. 

On your walk back to your apartment building you chatted about what he could expect flying commercial - a first for him and took the time to reassure him he wouldn’t be recognised. 

“Can I text you whilst I’m away?” He asked, trying his best to sound as casual as possible. 

It was at that moment it dawned on you that you didn’t even have his number, you’d both gotten so used to your routine of popping by each other's apartment whenever you hung out. Although admittedly, you both always found yourself hanging out more at yours since he wasn’t big on owning furniture.

“Of course, here pass me your phone and I’ll put my number in” Bucky tried not to sigh in relief as he reached into his jeans pocket, retrieving his phone. Despite you both growing closer the past few months, he still felt nervous around you, scared of being rejected. 

“Oh god you’re one of those” You groaned, staring at his 15 unread notifications. “Can I get rid of them?” You asked as the little red icon taunted you. 

“Go for it doll” His metal arm snuck around your waist as you continued to walk through the busy streets of New York, Bucky doing his best to help you dodge the crowds of people ahead as you focused on his phone. Bucky justified his arm around you as purely helping you avoid being barged and walking into people but he knew deep down it was just another opportunity to hold you close. “Spiderling ….. Spiderling. ?You ignored Spider Man?! He’s messaged you a few times, can I read them?” You asked, staring up into his baby blues. He glanced down at you and nodded before focusing back on walking you through the streets of Brooklyn. 

There were a few more messages which had gone unread, a couple about picking his brain for a history paper and another about upgrading his arm. 

Hi Mr Barnes, it’s Peter Parker, do you have five minutes for a chat?

However, one caught your attention. 

Are you ignoring me because I beat you? It’s okay to admit a 16 year old bested you Mr Barnes :D 

“Bucky did you get your ass handed to you by a teenager?” You giggled, rereading the message as the man beside you held the lobby door open for you. 

“Okay first off he didn’t beat me, I let him win. And secondly -” His nose scrunched up as he tried to think of his second point, failing miserably. 

“Wow, James Buchanan Barnes got beaten up by a sixteen year old and yet he has the audacity to criticise my footwork.” You teased, pressing the button for the elevator. 

“In my defence, as soon as I knew how young he was I held back. By a lot” Gesturing towards the empty elevator that had arrived, he followed you inside and pressed the button for your floor. “And then he caught me off guard with his sticky web thing and it all went downhill from there.” 

You covered your mouth trying your best not to laugh, imagining the man in front of you getting caught in one of Spider Man’s webs, struggling to get free. 

“Whatever Buck, you lost to Spider Man.” You finished putting your number in his phone and handed it back, chuckling to yourself. “You should call him sometime though, it sounds like he’s going through it.” 

He gestured again for you to leave the elevator first as the doors opened in front of you, swiftly following on your heels. “I’m not his babysitter.” He responded, pulling out his keys. 

“And I’m not yours but I still listen to your shit.” You smirked at him, leaning against your door. 

He responded with that stupid tongue thing he did, licking his lower lip before smiling back at you. God what you’d love to do with that- You shook yourself out mid thought, knowing where your mind was leading would only end in another night of frustration. 

“How long do you think you’ll be gone for?” You asked, the conversation turning more somber. 

“Hopefully not too long doll… come here.” He held his arms open and you pushed yourself off your door without hesitation, falling into his waiting arms. Your face was pressed against his hard chest, your arms snaking around his waist as he held you against him, his biceps curling around your shoulders, gripping you tightly. Ever so gently, he placed a kiss in your hair, his lips lingering slightly longer than they should’ve. A few moments later, you both released one another, trying to avoid the cold feeling overcoming you as his warmth left your body. 

“I’m expecting a souvenir y’know” 

“Of course” He replied back, chuckling as he pondered just how he was going to cope without you.

[winterscaptain]

the pleasures of the elder.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: the people have spoken, and they all love sean hotchner. this fits after mean it in the joyful future universe, but no context is actually required to enjoy a little bit of sibling rivalry. title comes from jane austen’s quote: “the younger brother must help to pay for the pleasures of the elder.” 

words: 3k warnings: language, alcohol use, sex mention, jealous!aaron, perceptive!sean

summary: when he arrives for an impromptu visit, sean knows his brother too well to give him any moment’s peace - especially when it comes to you. 

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed

A man, both very handsome and vaguely familiar, pushes through the glass doors and walks across the bullpen - a visitor's badge pinned proudly to his leather jacket. You try to place him, but come up short. 

You’re alone, for the time being. Almost everyone is off running some kind of last-minute errand around the federal building - making copies, finishing paperwork, or in a meeting (in Hotch’s case). It’s the last dregs of the day, the sun setting over the river. 

The man stops in front of your desk. “Hi. Are you part of the BAU, or am in the wrong place?” His eyes are bright, roaming over your face with a kind of curious, warm, knowing air. 

You smile at him, and before you can answer -

“Sean!” JJ’s fond tone carries across the bullpen, and she arrives with an armful of cases. 

Sean? 

Oh my god. 

Sean Hotchner. 

“Hey, JJ, right?”

She laughs, sounding a little younger than she is. You can’t blame her. Sean is exceedingly handsome in an entirely different direction than his older brother. And if your memory serves correctly, just a year older than you. “Yeah, that’s right. Good to see you.” He offers her a hand, and she shifts her files to take it. His handshake is firm, and lasts just a moment too long. 

You kick back in your chair, almost inviting him to lean against your desk. “Hotch is in a meeting, if you’re looking for him. He should be out in,” you check your watch, “about five minutes.”

Sean turns back to you, his shockingly blue eyes meeting yours. “Thanks.” He smiles at you again, and you’d be lying if you said your heart was doing normal things in your chest. “Sean Hotchner. I’m Aaron’s - sorry, Hotch’s - little brother.”

Those eyes are dangerous. 

Oh, poor Aaron. 

You shake his hand and introduce yourself. “Pleasure’s all mine, I’m sure.” 

Just as you suspected moments ago, he takes the initiative and leans against your desk. JJ hovers nearby, a little smile on her face. You watch as she sends a quick text, and puts her phone back on her belt. 

Gotta tell the girls...

“So,” he starts, brisk and businesslike, “you definitely weren’t here during my last visit. What’s your story?”

“Well, if you must know -“

“I must.” He flashes you another smile, and you can only imagine all the trouble he caused growing up. Or, rather, you can imagine all the trouble he would have caused if his brother wasn’t around to bail him out. Five years ago, you would have been drawn into his pretty eyes and wide smile. Now, you can only see a boyish, overt, almost-inelegant version of the understated warmth you love in Aaron. 

You give him a quick rundown of your history: hometown, alma mater, etc. “- I was an academy grad in 2007, and I’ve been here ever since.”

“Ah, so not a newbie anymore. And you’ve worked with my brother the whole time?” He almost looks impressed. His glance down to your ringless left hand doesn’t escape your notice.

Oh Sean, if only you knew. 

You nod. “Yeah, I’ve worked under Hotch for five years now.” 

And I’ve worked over him for about three months. Also under him, around him, on the couch, in the kitchen, etc.

Shut up. 

C’mon. It’s funny.

A low whistle leaves him as you bite back a smile. “Damn. I’m so sorry. He’s a real hardass.”

You lean in conspiratorially, and you’re almost cheek-to-cheek as he leans down to listen. “You know, that’s what I hear, but -” 

Penelope bursts through the doors and calls your name, carrying an armful of papers that have absolutely nothing to do with the work going on upstairs. Emily is close behind her, an amused grin on her face. 

Sean leans back so you can finally see her. “Yeah?”

“I have these for - Oh, hi Sean!” She says it like she hasn’t already decided her primary objective is to get his attention. 

“Hey!” He looks over at her, one finger up to stop her in her tracks. “Wait, don’t tell me. Garcia, right?”

“Penelope,” JJ supplies helpfully. 

“That’s right. It’s good to see you again.” He offers her his hand, and she takes it. You’re almost certain he winks at her, and she smiles through the blush rising on her cheeks. 

He really is a heartbreaker, huh?

Aaron must have had his work cut out for him.

Derek rounds the corner and immediately rolls his eyes at the scene before him. Sean has his body angled toward you (in your chair, completely open, with your chin in your hand) while he shakes Penelope’s hand. JJ pretends to do work off at her desk behind yours, but she’s completely tuned into the conversation. Emily’s sitting on her own desk off to the side, watching the whole thing with a certain degree of good humor. 

“Sean, good to see you, man.” Derek walks over and takes Penelope under his arm. It’s almost possessive, and you almost laugh. 

Sean releases Penelope’s hand and takes Derek’s. “Hey, Morgan. How’ve you been?”

Their bro-to-bro catch-up fades into the background as you see Hotch appear on the breezeway by his office. You look up at him before pointedly glancing at Sean beside you. He sighs, then calls, “Sean.”

The man in question turns, and a smile breaks out over his face when he sees his brother. There’s something cocky about it, and you don’t miss the way his body language remains keyed into you as he speaks. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

Aaron takes another deep breath and walks down the stairs. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t I just come see my big brother at work?”

Aaron’s eyebrow is dubious at best. “What do you need?”

Sean laughs, and it reminds you enough of Aaron’s that it draws a wide smile from you. You find yourself looking fondly up at Sean, seeing more of the resemblance now that they’re beside each other. Aaron’s jaw flexes. You notice. 

Oh, see, now this is fun. 

“I was just in town and figured I’d stop by to see if you were here or out on a case.” Sean glances down at you with another charming smile before looking back at his brother. “I guess I got lucky.” 

He’s just full of those smiles, isn’t he?

JJ jumps in. “We’re actually planning on going out to drinks once we wrap up in a couple of minutes. You’re more than welcome to come.”

While JJ pulls attention elsewhere, you glance up at Hotch and throw him a wink. Hey. Relax. 

His jaw relaxes just a touch, and his lips twitch. As usual, he covers it by crossing his arms over his chest. Don’t be a shit. 

You wet your lips and purse them a little. Nice try. 

He shifts, just a little, raising an eyebrow. You’re really gonna go there?”

Watch this. You toss him a quick smile. “That would be great!” You brush Sean’s sleeve as you unnecessarily reach over him for Penelope. “What do you think, Pen?”

“Oh, we’d love that!” Penelope takes your hand, squeezes it, and looks up at Derek. “Wouldn’t we?”

Derek nods. “We’d love to have you, man. It’ll be good to hear what you’ve been up to in New York.” 

Aaron does his best to suppress his eye roll. You’re lucky he loves you, childish antics and all. 

+++

When you split up into your respective cars, Sean elects to ride with you over his brother. You and Hotch play the role of designated drivers. You’ve fallen into the routine, finding it's much easier to sneak around your coworkers as they get more and more inebriated through the evening. 

Aaron doesn’t look too happy with the ride arrangements, but he lets it slide. Dave and Emily ride with him, while you have Derek, Penelope, and JJ in the car with you and Sean. 

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t trust Sean. 

Logically, he doesn’t have anything to worry about. He woke up this morning to your patient, adoring eyes and your hands playing with his hair. You ate breakfast together (read: sat in his lap with a bowl of cereal while he read his emails), were (almost) late due to your showering arrangement, and only parted after a (very) good kiss in the driveway. 

Still though, he can’t quite shake the insecurities he always felt with his brother. Thirteen years his junior, Sean always seemed to excel in every social pursuit. Music, girls, friends - he was able to settle into things Aaron always struggled with. It was stupid. Aaron was well into his thirties when Sean was in undergrad, but that prickle of envy never seemed to fade. 

Their mother never put the pressure on Sean the way she did on Aaron, and in some ways it made sense. He was a teenager when their father passed, and Sean was hardly a child. More responsibility, more weight, less credit. 

Aaron might be his mom’s pride and joy, even to this day, but Sean will always be her baby. 

Thus, watching Sean easily weasel his way into one of your smiles wore on almost thirty years of tension. 

“Hey, what’s going on with you?” Emily asks, tapping Hotch’s shoulder with gentle fingers. Upon making contact, she snorts. “Wow, you’re really tense.” 

Hotch shakes his head and shrugs her off. “I’m alright.” 

It’s Dave’s turn to snort. “No you’re not. You’ve been scowling since Sean showed up.”

“He just has that effect on me. Always has.” 

“C’mon, Aaron.” Dave says. Aaron’s grip on the wheel tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. “He’s just a kid.” 

With a flat deadpan, Aaron replies, “He’s thirty.” 

Emily leans forward on the center console, inserting herself into the conversation. “Hotch, you don’t have anything to worry about. Sean doesn’t have anything on you.” She bumps his shoulder with hers. 

He sighs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Emily and Dave share a look and a little smile. 

+++

You hop out of the car, swinging your keys in your hand. Hotch is a couple of spots down from you in the parking lot, and your little groups meet up somewhere in the middle. Falling back, you let Derek and Emily lead the way. When they’re all in front of you, Sean included, you press your shoulder to Aaron’s for just a moment. 

“Are you going to be childish?” he says, quietly. 

You suppress a smile. “You’re fun when you’re jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous.” 

“Alright.” Your hand snags his for just a moment, before you jog forward to catch up to the rest of the group. 

“There you are!” Sean’s voice rings out, and you let him tuck you under his arm. You wrap an arm around Sean’s waist and chance a look back to grin at Aaron. 

Gotcha, babe. 

Aaron rolls his eyes so loudly you can see it from twenty feet away. Ridiculous. 

I love you. 

I know. 

+++

You’ve all managed to secure a table. While not incredibly crowded, there are plenty of people around. You planted yourself next to Aaron, and Sean planted himself next to you. The music is just loud enough to encourage dancing without requiring a shout to communicate. 

Derek downed his first drink and led Penelope on the floor within ten minutes of your arrival. 

The round table is crowded, and your pinkie locked in Aaron’s belt loop goes unnoticed. He stretches his arm out behind you to clap Sean’s shoulder, and his fingers quickly trace across your shoulders as he pulls it back. 

“So what have you been up to, Sean?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.” He pulls from the drink in front of him and you’re almost certain it’s just a Coke. 

Sober? Getting there? 

Remind me to get the skinny on that later. 

10-4.

Aaron chuckles darkly. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.” 

Sean shrugs, and leans back, checking out the dance floor. You pull your pinkie from Aaron and put both of your hands on the table. Emily’s looking a little too watchful tonight, and you’d hate to lose your bet. 

Your money is on making it more than six months without alerting the team you’ve been sleeping together. Aaron, always of little faith, took the alternative. 

“Dance with me?” Sean offers you a hand, and you take it. Before you get too far, you lean across Aaron to take another sip of your drink. When you lose your balance (on purpose), Aaron steadies you with a hand around your waist, making sure you’re settled on your feet before you jet off with Sean. 

“Thanks, Hotch!”

He takes a long pull from his beer - his only drink for the evening. Hotch. Gimme a break. 

“Looks like they’re hitting it off great,” JJ says with a laugh. “That works out. I mean, Sean’s about our age, right?”

Don’t remind me. 

“Yep. Turned thirty last month.” Aaron does his best to not sound too bitter. 

JJ smirks at Emily, who turns to smirk at Dave. They don’t know what they don’t know, but they certainly know enough to keep an eye on Aaron for the rest of the evening. 

“That’s in-flight entertainment, baby.” Emily whispers to JJ. “I can’t wait to tell Will. He’s going to die laughing.” 

JJ lets out a peal of laughter. “Absolutely.”

Out on the floor, you’re having way too much fun, sandwiched between Derek and Sean. You pull Penelope between you and Derek, and loop an arm over Sean’s shoulders. 

“So,” he says, his lips close to your ear and his voice barely audible over the music, “how long have you been sleeping with my brother?”

You freeze for just a moment, but it’s a moment too long to recover. “What?”

“Oh, come on. Question in response to a question? That’s like profiling 101.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sean rolls his eyes. “He’s halfway in love with you, if not completely fucked, in case he’s failed to tell you.” He spins you out, and back in so your back is against his chest. 

“We’ve got that covered, yeah.” You twist in his arms. “You gonna do anything about it?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. I think it’s pretty funny to get him all worked up, though, don’t you think?” Another bright smile crosses his face and his blue eyes seem to glow in the dim light. 

“Oh, Sean. I think we’re going to get along just fine.” You laugh and reach for him again, but a finger appears in your belt loop. Derek pulls you back toward him by the hip. He’s stupid strong, and you can only tumble back into him with another laugh. 

You’re sweaty, sober, and having way too much fun.  

“Careful, kid. I think Hotchner has a crush.” Derek’s playful jab is warm against your ear as you fall in with him, cheek-to-cheek. 

“What can I say?” You ask. “I’m irresistible.” 

Derek throws you under his arm in a spin and you land back at his chest with the wind knocked out of you. “He’s gotta get in line though.”

“Oh?”

“I think his big brother’s gonna give him a run for his money?” 

That’s enough for you. “Gimme a break, Morgan.” With a laugh, you shove at Derek’s chest and leave the floor. Returning to the table, you sidle up to Aaron again. “Hey, Hotch. Having fun?”

He gives you a weak glare out of the corner of his eye and takes a sip of his beer. “A blast.” 

“Couple more hours, if that, then we’ll be home.” You drop your voice, almost whispering into your glass as you take another sip.

Aaron nods. “Can’t come soon enough.” 

The rest of the team gets more and more sloshed as the evening progresses, and you can get away with a lot more. That said, Sean’s eyes are playful, sober, and more than a little amused. 

“What did my brother say to you?” Hotch murmurs, under his breath. The girls went to the bathroom (and to call Spencer a cab home) while Derek and Sean posted up at the bar, itching for an excuse to give some asshole the what-for. 

You bump his shoulder. “Just that you’re half in love with me, if not already completely fucked.” 

He heaves a sigh. “Can’t catch a break.” You link your pinkie through his belt loop again. “He’s right, though.” 

“How’s that?” You look up at him and you know he can see how much you love him. 

“I’m completely fucked.” 

If any of your team members wonder what’s so fucking funny, they don’t ask. It’s just good to see Hotch smiling again. 

+++

At the end of the night, you drop Sean back off at the hotel on your way home. He’s the last in your car, so he can speak his mind with a certain degree of freedom. You idle in front of the building for a moment, just enjoying the silence.

“Hey.” 

You look over at him. “Yeah?”

“You’d make a great in-law. Just wanted you to know that I’m here for it.” He offers you a hand. You shake it and it almost feels like you’re making some kind of gentleman’s agreement. “Take care of him. He needs it.” 

“Oh, don't worry. I know.”

The smile you share is that of a pair of co-conspirators, of siblings, of friends. 

We’ll do just fine, you and I. 

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts  @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @lilsiswinchester @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @mrshotchnerrossimulder21 @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @garcia-reid-lovechild  @cevanswhre @colbyskoalas  @qvid-pro-qvo @joanofarkansass @jeor @spencers-hoodrat 

[bodyalive]

Why Does My Body Feel Tight When I Wake Up?

And what can I do to feel better?

* * * *

By Katie Okamoto

Feb. 15, 2022

If you regularly wake up with stiff muscles, creaky joints or the general feeling that your body simply isn’t as limber as it was when you went to bed, the first thing to know is that you are not alone. Waking up with a tight body is “almost a universal human experience,” said Maryclaire Capetta, a physical therapist and assistant professor in the department of kinesiology at the University of Connecticut. And, she added, it’s quite common for it to happen every day.

But while feeling stiff in the morning is normal and typically dissipates quickly, it’s also uncomfortable while it lasts. The good news, experts say, is that there are a few tricks you can use — when you feel stiff, and even before the feeling arises — to help you get relief, faster.

Why you feel stiff

Most of the time, that tight feeling when you wake up is a result of overnight changes to the lubrication in two different features of the body: the joints and the fascia.

The fascia is a complex group of connective tissues that surround and support the muscles, soft tissues, organs and bones. Think of fascia as a fibrous web that wraps around and through muscle tissue to give it structure and stability. It forms multiple layers, with a gel-like lubricant in between that allows the layers to slide and glide smoothly, and which helps you to feel loose and limber, said Dr. Antonio Stecco, a fascia researcher and professor of rehabilitation medicine at New York University.

In certain situations — like when your body temperature drops, when you’ve been still for an extended time, or when lactic acid builds up in the muscles and fascia during intense exercise — the lubricant becomes thicker and more viscous and the layers of fascia can’t glide as easily, leading to feelings of stiffness.

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When you sleep, many of those thickening situations occur: you’re usually still for a long time (say, eight hours) and your body temperature tends to drop.

Your joints may also contribute to feeling stiff in the morning. In healthy joints, a thick fluid lubricates the space between the ends of your bones, which are capped with cartilage, to help them move freely and comfortably. Whenever you’re still for a long period of time (like when you’re sleeping), the cartilage sucks up the lubricant like a sponge, Dr. Capetta said, making your joints feel creaky.

How to feel better

The good news is that the remedy for stiffness in the morning — whether it’s caused by your fascia or your joints — is the same: movement.

While you’re still in bed and lying on your back, start by doing a full-body stretch, like a cat or dog does when they first wake up, by extending your legs and arms wide and in opposite directions. Then, try pointing and flexing your toes, or stretching just your arms and torso, mimicking the cliché “just woke up” stretch. To bring fluid back into your joints, try gently bending and unbending your knees and elbows, rolling your wrists and ankles or gently nodding your head from side to side.

If you still feel stiff once you’ve gotten out of bed, try marching in place, continuing to bend and re-bend any joints that feel stiff, Dr. Capetta said. If your back and the sides of your body feel tight, you could try a gentle stretch, like a loose forward hang toward your toes with slightly bent knees, or side bends and cat-cow yoga poses. Studies suggest that a regular yoga practice can be effective in reducing discomfort associated with joint and muscle stiffness and chronic back pain. Do whatever feels good. If you have a dog, taking it out first thing in the morning might get your body’s juices flowing and help you feel nimble more quickly. If it’s cold in the morning, try a hot shower.

While it’s healthy and normal to feel a little tight after a night of stillness, you might feel even more tight if your baseline flexibility is already limited. You can lessen this by staying limber and maintaining an active lifestyle in general. If you don’t already stretch regularly, adding even 15 minutes of stretching to your day may help you feel less stiff upon waking, Dr. Stecco said. If you sit in front of a computer for work, try moving around and changing positions throughout the day.

If you’re waking up frequently with a stiff neck and shoulders, you may want to re-evaluate the position you sleep in most often. If you’re a side sleeper, for example, your pillow should support your head so that your neck is in the same line as your spine. If you consistently wake up with a stiff lower back, you may also want to consider whether your mattress is the culprit. There isn’t one universal mattress type that will cure all tightness, but experts recommend different firmness levels depending on your needs.

If your joint stiffness lasts for longer than an hour after you’ve gotten out of bed and persists for weeks or even months, you should consult with a health care provider, Dr. Capetta said. Joint stiffness that lasts for an hour or longer could be an early indicator of arthritis. You should also see a doctor if you stretch regularly but still feel chronic tightness throughout the day.

Most of the time, morning tightness will naturally recede as you go about your morning. “But everyone has a different threshold for what is bothersome,” Dr. Capetta said. If it troubles you, some movement and stretching first thing in the morning may be enough “to reduce the time or to reduce the impact of this particular experience,” she said — whether it’s a universal one or not.

Katie Okamoto is a staff writer at Wirecutter who focuses on home design. She has also covered health-related topics for Bon Appétit, Newsweek and Vice, and is an essayist and culture writer.

[cjsinkythoughts]

The Night Shift

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,189

Warnings: a few bad language words (sorry Stevie), fluff, I think that’s all

Summary: Your bad day turns worse when you're given the night shift at work. But you find it has more perks than you original thought. 

A/N: Here it is! My first ever posted/published work! This is a bit new for me for quite a few reasons. 1. I usually write OCs. 2. I'm used to writing 3rd POV and past tense. 3. I like writing series and longer fics. 4k is actually pretty mild for me. Also, I'm planning on doing more first date fics with the Avengers, but we'll see if I keep up with that. Thank you and enjoy!

(Pictures not mine but collage is)

Today is not your favorite day. You woke up late, your laundry isn’t done because the machines were all being used when you tried, your roommate didn’t do the dishes so you had to do them before you left, your car broke down - meaning you had to take the Subway - and now you’re working an extra shift because your stupid coworker didn’t show up.

Who even comes in to get coffee at 9 at night? The sky is dark, the stars are out, and everyone should be getting ready for bed - including you. God. You love New York, but sometimes you wish the damn city would just go to sleep for once in it’s goddamn existence.

You’re practically asleep on your feet, getting ready to close in fifteen minutes, when the door opens, the little bell ringing in response. You rub your eyes and turn from where you’re wiping down the back counters to speak to the wackjob who wants coffee at this cursed hour.

You freeze, your eyes meeting stunning azures framed by dark lashes. Thick, soft, chocolate locks fall down past his ears and into those alluring eyes. Lips, perfectly pink and very tempting, pull up in a delicious smile. He’s got a jawline sharp as a knife, only accentuated by the dark scruff covering it. Jesus Christ this man is attractive. He’s also vaguely familiar…

He strolls up to the counter, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans that pulled taunt around his thick thighs. His shirt is pulled tightly across his shoulders, muscles flexing beneath the fabric, threatening to tear the material with every movement.

“Hello.” You thank whatever deity that might be out there that your voice doesn’t shake as you greet the gorgeous god of a man.

“Hi there, doll. Cody’s off today, huh?” Even his voice is breathtaking.

“Yeah. He didn’t show up. Is he a friend of yours?”

The man tilts his head in confusion, before his eyes light up realization. “Oh, no. No. I just come here a lot.”

“At nine at night?”

He shrugs, a small blush rising on his cheeks. “It’s the only time I get to myself really.” It clicks in your head who this man is when he raises his hand to rub the back of his neck. Black metal gleams in place of tanned skin.

“You’re Bucky Barnes!” You blink at him in disbelief. His hand quickly finds its way back to his pocket while he chuckles awkwardly. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. You’re one of my favorite Avengers! After Black Widow, obviously, but-” You stop rambling, feeling heat rise to your face. “God, I’m tired. Uh, what can I get you?” You punch in the order that he gives you and look up shyly. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

He smirks and leans on the counter. “How about a name, darlin'? Yours, specifically.”

You roll your eyes, unable to contain the snort you give. “I’ll be right back with your order, sir.” You start making his drink, avoiding his eyes that you feel watching your every move. Usually you had another worker helping to make drinks, but since there’s only ten minutes until closing, you’re alone to close up the shop tonight.

You also usually only write on the cup when there’s more than one person, but you find yourself writing down your own name on his cup. It is part of his order, after all.

“Here you go.” You repeat his order, handing his cup to him.

He raises an amused eyebrow. “You forgot-” You interrupt him by clicking your tongue and turning the cup in his hands. He looks down at it curiously, before grinning and reading the ink out loud. The way your name falls off his lips has you holding in a shiver. “Thanks, sugar.” You watch him leave the shop, whistling a nameless tune, and wonder if Cody would mind switching shifts more.

Turns out, Cody had been arrested, so your boss had to hire a new kid who, because of school, couldn’t do the night shifts. Which meant your shifts changed. Not that you mind all that much; it gives you more chances to see Bucky.

When he said he comes in often, he wasn’t lying. Occasionally he stays while you clean and lock up and the two of you get lost in conversation under the city lights outside the shop. He usually orders and leaves with a witty comment and a wink, probably off to save the world from aliens or Nazis. He always orders the same thing, but he always asks for a little something extra, different every night.

“The usual?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Anything else?”

“Your phone number would be great.”

~

“I’ll get right on your drink, Buck.”

“Awesome. Can you add your favorite flowers to that, too? Thanks, sugar.”

~

“I’m gonna change it up today, dollface.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll have the usual, but on the side I want to know what your favorite dessert is.”

He’s such a charmer. You aren’t sure if he’s just flirting or if he actually likes you. You think maybe he does that with every girl - waitresses, cashiers, secretaries - and he’s just being friendly. You’re sure after being stuck as a brainwashed assassin for nearly a century, flirting and cracking jokes with people makes him feel more normal. Still, you can’t help but wish that maybe the relationship you have now would become…more.

It’s not until he shows up a few weeks after your first meeting that you finally get an answer to whether or not he really likes you.

The bell rings, signifying a customer coming into the shop. You know it’s Bucky by the watch on your wrist; in the past few weeks of working the night shift, only one other person came in at nine o’clock.

“Good evening, beautiful.” A smile lifts the corners of your mouth at the familiar smooth voice that you could listen to all day. “Whatcha doin’ down there?”

You straighten up and look over the counter. “It’s called inventory. How’s your day been, Buckaroo?”

“Better now that I get to see your pretty face.”

You roll your eyes, face heating up and a small smile gracing your features. “Give me a minute and I’ll have your drink done. Anything extra?”

“This is a bit riskier than normal, but I’ve been wanting to try it for a while. Can I get your schedule?”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion as he smirks confidently. “My schedule?”

“Yeah. I just need to know something.”

“What would that be?”

“You free on Saturday, doll?”

* * * * * * * *

Saturday comes much too slowly for your liking, especially considering he asked you out only two days prior. He didn't tell you what you'd be doing today, so you decide on a casual sundress that you can play off as fancy if you need it to be. The color and style compliments you and your beautiful features perfectly and you can only hope he agrees. Your roommate assured you you looked gorgeous before going out with some of their other friends this morning.

You're just putting the finishing touches on your outfit for the day when a knock on your door sounds throughout your apartment. You check your watch: 10:30 on the dot. Just like he said. You get up too quickly, causing you to trip on your own feet and stumble - but luckily you catch yourself before you fall. Feeling simultaneously embarrassed and relieved he didn't see your clumsy actions, you head to open the door.

A bouquet of your favorite flowers appeared once you open the door, bright cerulean eyes shining at you from behind them. He grins, said eyes scanning your figure. "You look pretty as a picture, doll."

You duck your head bashfully, taking the flowers from him. "Thank you." You not so subtly check him out as you put the flowers in a vase. Like always, Bucky is absolutely stunning: his brown locks frame his face, falling into those mesmerizing blues, which are even more so due to the dark blue t-shirt under the light bIue jean jacket hugging his muscled torso. Dark jeans pull taunt across those thighs, his large hands in his pockets casually. You find yourself frowning when you notice his left hand is covered by a black glove. You want to say something, but decide against it, too anxious to ruin the date with this god of a man.

He clears his throat, which brings your gaze back to his face. You feel yourself heat up at the smirk on his perfectly pink lips. "Uh, I, um, so...what are we doing today?"

"I thought we could have some fun today, since all you ever seem to do is work."

"I don't always work." You quickly defend. He raises a disbelieving eyebrow, making you drop your head again. "Okay. Maybe I don't get out much."

He chuckles. "Good thing. That way I get you to myself." There's that smug smirk again. "As for what we're doing, that's for me to know and you to find out. I'd wear walking shoes if I were you, though."

You give him a curious look, moving over to grab your keys, phone, and wallet, before slipping on your sneakers. "I don't get a hint or anything?"

"And ruin the surprise? Where's the fun in that?" You giggle a bit as the two of you head out your door and down the hall. "I didn't know if you mind motorcycles, so I just borrowed Steve's car." He tells you in the elevator.

You talk about motorcycles and your opinion of them as you walk out your building and into the bright Spring sun. Your eyes widen at the nice Camaro parked in the street that he leads you to. "Wow."

"Yeah." Bucky nods in agreement. "Tony had it custom made for Steve for their anniversary a few months ago."

"And he's allowing you to use it?"

Bucky chuckles, running a hand through his hair as a pink tint dusts his cheeks. "'Allow' is a strong word."

You laugh as he opens the passenger door for you. You thank him, sliding onto the nice brown leather seat. "Does he even know you have it?"

He shrugs, shutting the door and leaning into the open window. "He'll find out soon, I'm sure."

Another laugh escapes you, a smile adorning his lips at the sound. He walks around the car, doing a hood slide to make you chortle again. While you two start driving, you try to convince him to give you a hint, but he's stubborn, denying you answers with that annoyingly charming smirk of his.

You recognize the direction you're going after a while and bounce in your seat as you arrive. "Coney Island?"

"I haven't been here since before the War and I've been meaning to come see how it's changed." He told you with a grin. "Who better to come check it out with than the pretty dame who serves me coffee at nine o'clock without complaining?"

Rolling your eyes to cover how much comments affect you, you smile teasingly in return. "Have you always been such a charmer, Barnes?"

He parks the car before shooting you a wink. "Only to angels, darlin', and you're the first one I've met so far."

You inwardly curse, hating how easily flustered you get around him. He gets out of the car and you're about to follow when he opens your door for you and offers his hand to you like the gentleman he is. You take it, enjoying the feeling of your smaller one against his rough calluses, and he helps you out of the car, shutting the door behind you.

"You ready to have the time of your life, dolIface?"

"As long as you get me a treat." You joke, linking your arm with the one he offers.

"Like I wasn't going to?" He scoffs back. "Who do you think l am, sugar? Now c'mon. Fun's awaitin'."

You laugh, letting him drag you around, loving the child-like wonder in his pretty eyes. Whether or not you enjoy roller coasters, you have a blast: playing carnival games, eating food you both know is terrible for you, but tastes oh so good, and people watching the interesting crowds, all while teasing and playing around with each other. There's nothing better you can think of to do with your free day than goof off with Bucky, no stress or worries plaguing your mind like usual. He even wins you multiple adorable plushies! Being a super soldier wasn't just good for saving the world, evidently.

It was while you're eating lunch that you ask Bucky why he's wearing a glove. "I've already seen your arm. I don't mind."

He hesitates, opening his mouth before licking his lips nervously. "It's not...I know you don't. I just don't...I dunno. I don't wanna freak anyone out."

You frown and put down your food, leaning forwards on your elbows. "First off, I think you're an amazing person. Just throwing that out there. Second, I don't think anyone will mind. You're a hero. An Avenger. Basically a celebrity with a badass arm. And, finally, if anyone does say anything, I'll tell them off. Easy peasy."

He snorts at that, before looking at his gloved hand warily. You reach across the table to give both his hands a squeeze. He meets your eyes and you grin reassuringly back. "If you're not comfortable, that's okay. Just know that other people should never be the reason to hide yourself. Trust me."

"I do." He says genuinely. You give him a questioning look, playing with the tips of his gloved fingers. At his nod, you slowly start taking his glove off, giving him time to say no. He doesn't, letting you tug it all the way off. He blushes when you lift the smooth metal to your lips.

"So, what's next? Wanna win me one of those monkeys with the velcro hands?" He chuckles at your question, telling you he'd win you all of them if you asked. You giggle, tightening your hold on his hand and, after finishing the last bite of food, pulling him to the booth with the monkey prizes.

When it starts getting dark, Bucky convinces you to go on the Ferris Wheel with him, promising to hold your hand the whole time if you're scared of heights (even though you haven't let go of his hand or arm since lunch). It's one of the most stunning scenes you've ever seen. The sun is just barely peeking over the horizon, a few stars dotting the darkened sky, a rare sight living in New York City. The aforementioned city's lights were turning on, causing the skyline to glow brightly. It's hard to think of anything bad about NYC when she looks like that.

"Wow. " You breath, enchanted by the city you've grown to love as home. "There's something almost...magical about it, don't you think?" You turn to Bucky, still captivated by the view, expecting him to be the same. After all, New York has been his home for over a century and so much has changed. Instead, you find him intently watching you, a small, adoring smile etched on his features. You smile shyly, unable to keep his gaze while he's looking at you like that - like you're the most enthralling thing he's seen, bewitching his heart and soul, even with the magnificent picture before you.

"Yeah...there is." He agrees, grabbing your chin between his left thumb and pointer finger gently, making your eyes meet. His right arm is around your shoulders, pulling you into his warm chest, heating you up from the chill the night is bringing.

Your heart drums hard against your ribs when he glances at your lips and you're sure he could hear it, even without his enhanced hearing. Your eyes lock onto his lips as his tongue darts out to wet them. You're suddenly so much closer, his right hand holding the back of your neck delicately while his left cups the side of your jaw. Your hands are gripping his jacket, noses brushing.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice comes out low and raspy.

"If you didn't, I'd probably smack you."

You feel his deep chuckle reverberate through his chest, which you just notice is pressed solidly against yours. Before you can process anything, his lips are slanted over yours. They're softer than you originally thought and they move expertly against yours. It surprises you, before you remember he's technically over a century old, so of course he has experience.

The kiss is over before you want it to be, but the need for oxygen gets too much and your lungs start to sting, so you pull back reluctantly, your hands now in his hair while he's holding your face tenderly.

"Speaking of magic."

You laugh, rolling your eyes as the Ferris Wheel starts turning again. "Who knew Bucky Barnes is such a sap?"

He smirks, leaning forwards to peck your Iips a couple times. "I prefer the term 'romantic'."

Once you get off, you hold onto his elbow, leaning against his shoulder. "Thank you for bringing me, Buck. I really enjoyed today."

"Well that's good considering we're not done."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Wait, what?"

Bucky scoffs in amusement. "You didn't think that was all, didya, doll? The day's not over; the night's still young!" His right arm slings around your shoulders, pulling you close and kissing your head.

"Okay. What's next?" You ask curiously. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk on those delicious lips. "Another surprise?"

"Hope you're hungry, sweetheart."

"Dinner?"

Giving you a charming grin, he leads you back to the car. "Guess you'll have to wait 'n see, darlin’."

* * * * * * * *

"Buck.” You groan, toeing the ground nervously. The blindfold covering your eyes was keeping you from seeing anything and, to your embarrassment, you've already tripped more times than you care to admit. “Where are we? l feel like we've been walking forever. Can I take this stupid thing off yet?”

Bucky chuckles softly in your ear, holding you steady as you walk on the uneven surface beneath your feet. “We’re almost there, doll. I promise."

Letting out a huff, you let him lead you further along. Finally, after what feels like hours, though you know you're being dramatic and haven't been walking that long, he stops. "Stay right here," he mumbles, his hands that were on your shoulders leaving, along with his warmth behind you, with a kiss to your cheek.

"Haha. You're so funny."

A couple snickers leave his lips and you can just imagine the smile no doubt gracing his features - the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes adorably. You feel wind nip at your bare skin and shiver slightly, wondering where the hell you are.

"Okay. C'mere." His hands are on you again, the contrast of the two adding to the goosebumps the breeze was giving you. "Right here." You can practically feel his excitement and nerves as he positions you. "Alright. Ready?"

"As much as I'll ever be, I suppose."

His nimble fingers are suddenly at the edge of cloth covering your eyes, which he makes quick work of, tugging it off gently. "You can open your eyes, sugar." He chuckles, seeing your eyes tightly clenched shut. You do as he says and blink them open. The sight that meets you takes your breath away.

He brought you to a beach, which you had kind of already guessed due to the sad slipping through your shoes. In front of you, a blanket is spread out, being held at the corners by lanterns, which are connected by a string of fairy lights outlining the blanket. Pillows are scattered on the blanket, a picnic basket to the side while a single red rose is in a small vase in the center with rose petals surrounding the setup. He really is a romantic.

"Bucky. It's beautiful. When did you set this up?"

He rubs the back of his neck, turning red. You smile, enjoying the fact that you can make him just as flustered as he makes you. “Actually, the team helped me out a bit. It was originally just Natasha and Steve. But, uh, then Tony and Wanda found out and then...Sam."

You giggle, knowing his and Sam's brotherly relationship from previous conversation. "I bet he teased the shit out of you when he found out."

"Please," Bucky scoffs. "I'll be the butt of his jokes for at least a month. At least, this part of me will."

"Well, I love this side of you if that's worth anything."

He grins dashingly at you. "Then let the birdbrain tease, because that’s worth everything. Here." Taking your hand, he leads you over to the blanket and sits you down. "All those questions at the coffee shop and I never asked your favorite drink so I brought red, white, beer, Coke, Pepsi, root beer, and," he pulls out the last bottle he brought with a boyish smile. "Apple juice. There's water in 'ere too. And, o' course, the meal and the dessert, which I did ask about because I'm not a complete idiot."

Laughing, you can't help but pull him in for a kiss. "You're so cute."

He clears his throat, his face heating up while he rubs the back of his neck, tying his hair back in a knot. He hands out compliments like candy on Halloween but he can't take them to save his life. How adorable can one man be?

You two eat and talk about everything from hilarious childhood stories to what keeps you up at night. You love listening to his fascinating tales of playing through the 20s, scraping through the 30s, and fighting through the 40s. You especially love the way his face lights up when talking about his family, the Howling Commandos, and America's Golden Boy, both twink and tank stories.

After a couple hours, you find yourself wrapped in his warm jacket - which smelled amazing - leaning against him as he tells you about his new family. You sip on your preferred drink, your eyes fluttering shut, content to simply listen to his soothing voice talking about Clint and Scott's latest prank on Pietro.

"You tired, doll?" You hear him whisper tenderly, his arms around your waist while his thumbs run small circles on your sides.

You hum and look back at him over your shoulder. "Just feeling the moment." He smiles adoringly at you, kissing your temple.

"It's getting late anyways. We should get you home. Don't want your roommate worrying."

You scoff, but agree. You help him clean up and carry things to the car, despite his protests. You nearly fall asleep on the ride back, his big, warm hand resting comfortably on your thigh the whole way. He squeezes gently when you pull up to your building, murmuring lightly to wake you up.

Ever the gentleman, he walks you inside and helps you bring the armful of prizes he got you to your door. Once there, you unlock the door and lean against the frame, facing him.

"Thank you, James. As far as first dates go, this is by far the best one I've had."

He shoots you a smug grin. "Glad to hear that, beautiful. Does that mean if I asked for a second date you'd say yes?"

You give him a smirk back. "I'd say your chances are very good."

"And if asked for a goodnight kiss from the most gorgeous girl I've ever been blessed to be in the presence of?"

You giggle, ducking your head shyly. His hands grip your jaw, pulling your gaze back to him. He nudges your nose with his, whispering against your lips, "is that a yes?" AII you can think to do is nod. He smirks at your reaction, before he's pulling your lips against his. It's more passionate, less hesitant and experimental, than the few previous kisses you shared. He's angling your face to deepen the kiss, his hands tangle in your hair and his tongue prods your lips open, swallowing the little whimper you let out.

When you pull back, you're breathless, panting against his open month. "You workin' tomorrow, darlin'?" He rasps out.

"No." You try to collect yourself enough to answer, although it's hard with all your nerves on fire, his scent fogging up your brain. You manage to move your heavy tongue enough to say, "I have the weekend off."

A broad grin lights up his pretty face. "Great. I'll be over at nine. Have a nice night, sweetheart."

You nod, an airy "goodnight" leaving your lips. You watch him walk off, a pep in his step and his lips turned up. You lean back against your door, hugging all your new plushies to your chest, still wrapped up in his jacket, and let out a sigh.

You'll have to go visit Cody and thank him. After all, that dreadful night shift gave you the best day of your Iife.

[beclynn-herondale]

In Another Universe: Chapter 9 - The Greenhouse part 2

(characters, tsc, and tmi belong to Cassandra Clare, it's also similar to the original)

After Hodge had fixed Jayce and Simone up, Jayce went off to shower and mysteriously disappeared. Isidore was sitting in his bedroom throwing knives at a target he had in there, when someone knocked on his door. He got up with a sigh, walked over and opened, there was his big sister, looking angry and upset, she tried her best to hide her emotions but so often they were written plain on her face.

"Can I come in?" she asked. He gestured her inside, it was often she did this, usually when Jayce made her upset, unfortunately Jayce made her upset quite often these days. "What's up?" he asked. "Jayce is nowhere to be found, I think she's avoiding us." "Of course she's avoiding us, we both have been picking arguments with her and you know when she gets into these moods, she doesn't like to argue with anyone, well not really."

"I did something stupid, and if she finds out she'll hate me." "Oh?" "I— I slammed Clar against a wall and may have threatened him." Isidore let out a whistle. "Why?" "He knows about me." "I know." "Wait, you knew that he knew?"

"Yeah, he figured it out but I made him promise not to tell anyone." "Well he did, he told me. I want him to leave, to go away and never come back." "Me too, but we're stuck with him for now," he said. "So do what I do my dear sister and throw knives at your walls while pretending it has the face of your arch enemy." "Why are you like this?" He shrugged

They sat in silence for some time. "Hey, Alec?" "Yeah?" "What do you think will happen with Clar when mom and dad get back?". "I don't know," said Alec. "I suppose if he asks for a place to stay, they would have to let him, since he's a Shadowhunter and it would be technically against the law to turn him away."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. So I guess we're stuck with him." "Yeah," she said bitterly. "Maybe he'll grow on us." "Maybe not." "Well, for now we gotta put up with him," he said. "I am tired, so unless you plan to sleep on my floor, cause I do not intend to share my bed, you should go to your own bed and try to sleep a little." "Yeah," she said half heartedly. "Give Jayce time, let her cool off from everything that happened." "You're probably right." "Of course I am," he said, and winked at her.

——————

Jayce opened the door, she took in the familiar smell of the plants, the smell of earth and the sweet smell of the flowers. She looked behind her and saw a look of awe on Clar's face. "Wow," he said, very slowly. "It's so... So beautiful at night." She grinned at him. "And we have it to ourselves. Alec and Iz don't dare coming here, they have allergies."

"What kind of flowers are these?" asked Clar, pointing at one of the shrubs. She shrugged and sat down. "I don't know. Do you think I pay attention in botany class? I am not going to be an archivist. I do not need to learn these things." she may have been slightly lying about not paying attention in botany class. "You just need to have all the knowledge of killing things?" She smiled at him again. "Exactly right," she said as she pulled a napkin wrapped sandwich out if the paper bag. "I also happen to make a badass cheese sandwich. Here ya go." She handed it to him. He smiled at her and sat down across from her.

Jayce pulled some apples, a chocolate bar that had nuts and fruit in it, and a bottle of water out of the bag as well. "Not bad," said Clar admiringly. She pulled her bone-handled knife out of her pocket, Alec had given it to her forever ago. She picked up one of the apples and started carving them into eighths. "It may not be birthday cake," she said, handing him slice. "But hopefully it is at least better than nothing at all.". "I was expecting nothing, so thank you." he said and took bite of the apple piece.

"Everyone should get something on their birthday," she said as she started peeling another apple. "Birthdays are special. My birthday was the one day of the year my father said I could do or have anything I wanted to." "Anything?" he asked with a laugh, his laugh was different from other's laughs. "What kind of anything are we talking here?"

"Well, when I was five, I asked if I could take a spaghetti bath.". "He said no, right?" "No, that's the thing. He let me, he said it wasn't expensive, if that was what I wanted? He had servants fill a bath with boiling water and spaghetti noodles, and after it cooled down enough. . ." she gave a shrug. "I took a bath in it."

"And how was that?'. "Very slippery.". "I am sure." He looked to be in thought for a moment. "Did you ask for anything else?". "Weapons, pretty much," she answered. "Which probably isn't a surprise. Books. I read many books on my own.'. "You didn't go to school?" They were heading to a topic she did not want to venture down. "No," she said slowly.

"But what about friends—" "I didn't have any," she said. "It didn't matter, it had always just been me and my father. He was all I ever needed.". "None at all?" She met his eyes with a steady look. "When I first met Alec," she said. "I was ten years old, that was the first time I'd ever met another person my age. She was the first friend I ever had."

He looked down now. He looked sad and sorry for her. "Don't feel sorry for me," she said. "He gave me the best training, the best education. He took me to see all kinds of places. London. Saints Petersburg. Egypt. We traveled a lot. I've barely left New York at all since he died.". "You're so lucky," Clar said. "I've never left New York. My mom wouldn't even let me go on field trips. I suppose I know why now, though.". "She was probably afraid you'd freak? And start seeing demons in museums?.". "Are there demons in museums?". "I was just kidding," she said and gave him a shurg. "If there were, I am sure someone would have mentioned it."

"I think she just didn't want me to be too far away from her. She changed after my dad died." Jayce raised her eyebrow at him. "Do you remember your father, at all?". "No. He died before I was born.". "You're lucky," she said, she could hear the loneliness in her own voice. "You don't have to miss him, I mean.". "Does it ever go away?" he asked. "Missing your father, I mean?" She didn't answer him, but no it didn't. "You thinking about your mother?". "No. I was thinking about Luke.". "That's not actually his name though," she said and took a bite of apple. "I have actually thought about him. His behavior just doesn't add—". "He's acting like a coward," said Clar bitterly. "You were there, you heard what he said. He won't go against Valentine. Not even if it's for my mother."

"I don't think that's exactly—" The bells started ringing. "Midnight," said Jayce, she set her knife down and got to her feet, she held her hand out to help him up. "Watch." She could feel Clar beside her, but she didn't look at him. She stared at the medianox flowers. She didn't know why she didn't look at him. She recalled the first she had ever saw the flowers bloom. Hodge had woken her, Alec and Iz up at midnight to watch them bloom. She was in the middle between Alec and Iz. The flowers usually only grew in Idris.

She remembered catching her breath at the surprise and beauty of the flower. Alec and Isidore had not had the same reaction, Alec had never been a night person and had fallen asleep against Isidore's shoulder. and Isidore lost interest after he found out it had no lethal uses. She worried perhaps, Clar would be the same: find them interesting, perhaps pleased. But not be enchanted by them.

She wanted him to feel the way she had about the flowers. But she couldn't say why exactly. Then she heard him say a soft "Oh!" As the flower bloomed, opening up, and shimmering with it's golden pollen. "Do the flowers bloom every night?" "Yes, but only at midnight."

She felt relief wash over her. And looked at him, his eyes shining, his fingers flexing unconsciously, they did this she had started to notice when he wished he had his sketchpad, when he wanted to capture an image. She wished she could see the world as he did: see the world as a canvas to be painted. And at the moments when he looks at her that way, as of he were taking her apart, piece by piece to be separated and painted. Almost an emotionless analysis of her — she caught herself on the verge of blushing. Such a strange feeling, so strange she almost didn't know it. Because, Jayce Wayland did not blush.

"Happy birthday, Clarus Fray," she said. He smiled at her. "I got something for you," she said and fumbled slightly reaching for her pocket, he didn't seem to notice though. She pressed the witchlight into his hand, and she was conscious of his hands, Artist hands, delicate but strong, he had calluses from holding paint brushes for hours, he had slight paint stains on his hands. And she wondered did his pulse speed up as well when they touched.

She supposed not, because he drew away quickly, looking at the runestone curiously. "You know when someone says they want a big rock they don't mean literally a big rock." That surprised a smile out of her. Which was odd in of itself, usually only Alec or Iz could surprise amusement out of her. She knew Clar had been brave since she first met him, going after Isidore into a closet unharmed like that took guts. But that he made her laugh was still a surprise.

"Very funny, my sarcastic friend. It's not a rock, exactly. Every Shadowhunter has a witchlight stone.". "Oh." He looked at it with a new curiousity in his eyes. He closed his hands around. "It will bring you light always, even among the darkest of worlds." That was what her father had told her when he had given her first witchlight runestone to her. What other worlds? She had asked, Her father only laughed though. There are more worlds a breath away this one than there were grains of sand on a beach, he had told her. She sometimes wondered about those other Jayces in those worlds, were they happy? Were they sad? Were they dead or alive? Was she by chance so different in one that she could be a boy? Would his name be Jace? And did they wonder about her? Were their parents alive?

Clar smiled again and made a joke about birthday presents. "thank you, it was nice for you to give me anything," he said. "Much better than a spaghetti bath.". "If you share that personal information with anyone, i may have to kill you." she said darkly. "Ok, well, when I was five, I wanted to go inside the clothes dryer and spin round and round," he said. "The only difference is, she said no.'. No"Probably because getting inside a dryer to spin around is very fatal," she pointed out. "But pasta is rarely fatal. Unless Isidore were to make it."

She saw the petals were shedding now. "Then when I was twelve, I wanted to get a tattoo" he said. A strand of hair fell into his eye and like the afternoon he had fallen asleep she wanted to push it away but fought the urge. "Well, usually most Shadowhunters get their first marks at twelve. Maybe it was just in your nature.". "Maybe. But I don't think many Shadowhunters want to get a tattoo of Dontello from teenage mutant ninja turtles on their left shoulder." He had that fond look on his face that he had when talking about something she couldn't quite understand but interested her. It sent a spark through her veins. A kind of fear, but what fear? That he would one day go back to the mundane world and leave her behind in her world of hunters and demons, battles and scars, and do it gratefully?

"You wanted to get a turtle on your shoulder?" He gave her a nod. "I wanted to cover this scar on my shoulder that I got from chicken pox." He pulled his shirt up to show her, there was a scar, it reminded her of something but she wasn't sure what. But she saw more than the scar, she saw the freckles that he had on his back, his shoulder blades. She took the moment to see his eyelashes that were a coppery color, his red curls like fire, the curve of his lips. Some kind of desire swept over her, one she had never felt before, she had desired people in a certain way before, but never in this way. Not in a way that cut through her like fire, and left an almost nervous tremble in her hands.

She looked away and shook her head slightly. "We should probably go back down stairs." He gave her a curious look, his green eyes on her like he could see through her. "Have you and Isidore ever dated?" Her heart still beating too fast. "Isidore?" she echoed. She thought, what does Isidore have to do with this? Why mention him? "Simone was curious," he said, and she disliked the way her name sounded as he spoke it. She had never felt this way before: never anything that could unnerve her like Clar did. She remembered that day back at the coffee shop when she wanted to lead him away into her world, away from the dark haired friend of his, lead him away into her world of shadows. She had a feeling even then he belonged where she did, not with mundanes who did not know the full truth of the world.

This boy right her and his green eyes that pinned her to the wall like a butterfly, was real, so very real. He pierced the distance she had put up so carefully to keep others away. "No, the answer is no. Maybe a time the thought crossed our minds but we're like siblings so it would be weird." "So you and him have never—" "Never," she said. "He hates me, you know." "No, he doesn't," she said, wanting to laugh like a sibling would, knowing their other sibling so well that you knew when they were frustrated. "You just make him nervous, he's always been the only boy in the crowd of our group, getting the attention and now he isn't." It was true, Isidore being the only son the Lightwoods had, was always adored and he got used to it.

"But why? He's so beautiful, and talented, what would I make him nervous about?" "You are too," she said automatically, it surprised herself. His face changed, but she couldn't read it. She had told people they were beautiful before but it was always calculated. This was not, this time she wanted to go to the training room and throw knife after knife at targets, wanted to kick and punch until she was exhausted and bloody. This boy making her this way.

He looked at her not saying anything. Ah, the training room it is. "We should go down stairs," she said again. "Okay." She couldn't read his voice either, she was usually good at reading people but her ability to do so has apparently deserted her and she doesn't know why.

They started to make their way out when she saw something flash a light and Clar backed up bumping into her slightly, he turned around to her and the next thing she knew she was throwing her arms around him to pull him down and kiss him, she was kissing him. She was shocked by herself, she didn't work this way, she always had control over her body. It was an instrument, like the piano. It didn't move without her permission, never. Here she was though, running her hands through his hair and kissing him hard, she ran her hands along his arms. He wrapped his arms around around her and leaned down a little, he ran a hand through her hair, then ran his hand down her back, he smelled like citrus, she tasted the apple on his lips, somewhere for a moment she lost herself. Understanding now why kisses were described the way they were in the books. She was slightly unsteady and she clung to him, he held her weight. She remembered the first time she saw the midnight flower, and thought it was something beautiful that belonged in the world.

She heard a rush of wind, and drew back from Clar, to see Hugo watching them. She still had her arms around him and they were still leaning on each other. His eyes were half closed still. "Don't freak, but I think someone is watching us," she whispered to him. "If Hugo is here that means Hodge is not far behind him. We need to go" He opened his eyes all the way, and looked amused. Shouldn't he be more flustered after that kiss? But he was just grinning. He wanted to know if Hodge had been spying on them and she assured him no, but she felt his laughter through their joined hands and didn't remember how that had happened.

They made their way downstairs. And as they did, hands still interlocked, she understood why people held hands, she had always thought it was something like saying this is mine. But it wasn't like that at all. It was speaking without using words and saying I want here with me and don't go. Suddenly she wanted him in her bedroom, not in that way — nobody she had ever been with had been in her bedroom. It was her safe space, it was special to her, her sanctuary. But she wanted Clar there. She wanted him to see her for who she really was, not the image she put on for the world. She wanted to lay in bed with him and just be snuggled up together. Wanted to watch him sleep and breathe softly. She wanted to see him and have him see her. So even when they got to his bedroom door, and he thanked her for the night again, she hadn't let go of his hand.

"Are you going to bed?" she asked. He looked down at her. "Aren't you tired?" She felt different now. "I have never been more awake." She stepped up on her tiptoes, pulling him down a bit to give a light brush of lips.

Then at that moment Simone flung the door open and came out into the hallway. Clar pulled away from Jayce hastily, and turned his head to the side looking at Simone. She felt a sharp pain, like ripping a bandage off. Simone was saying a bunch of angry words. And Jayce thought back to all the times that she'd been kissing someone in a club against the wall or in a alley behind a bar. And their significant other or the person who thought there was a chance staring at them like someone had ripped their heart out. Jayce had always felt sorry for them, but in a distant way, like in the plays when they were acting out a heartbreak scene.

But now as she looked at Simone she realized she would never have to wonder what it felt like again. Because the look of regret on Clar's face as he looked to Simone, made her realize Simone wasn't the one going to get her heart broken and shattered to pieces. It was Jayce.

Oh, Jayce what have you done now, she thought.

——————

Clar stared at Simone with regret, he knew what was going to happen, something else was going to blow up, and so much had blown up today. He was going to hurt and piss off more people and he had already done that in these last 24 hours as well, he wished he could disappear.

"What the fuck!" said Simone. "Simone! I— I mean I thought that you were—" "Sleeping?" she flushed with anger. "I was asleep, but then I woke up and you weren't there."

He didn't know what to say, he should have known something along the lines of this would happen. He wondered why he hadn't asked to go to Jayce's room, and the thought of that made him blush and want to kick himself more. But the worst part is that he hadn't thought of it because he had forgotten about Simone.

"I am sorry," he said, though not sure who he was apologizing to or for what.

He looked at Jayce from the corner of his eye and thought she looked angry for a moment but he looked again and she looked as she always did: composed, confident, easy, a little bored.

"In the future, Clarus," she said. "It may be a wise decision, to mention you already have someone in your bed, we could avoid situations such as this one.". "You asked her to bed?" asked Simone looking shocked. "Simply ridiculous, right?" said Jayce. "There's no way we could all have fit.". "I didn't ask her to bed," he snapped. "It was just kissing." "Just kissing?" said Jayce mockingly. "How quickly you dismiss our love.". "Jayce. . ."

He saw the malice in her eyes as she trailed off. "I'm sorry we woke you." "Me too," she said and went back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Jayce had a bland smile on her face. "Go after her and tell her how she's your special girl. Isn't that what you always do?". "Would you stop that," he said. "Stop being like this." She widened her smile. "Like what exactly?". "If you're upset, just say it. Don't act like nothing touches you. You seem like you never feel anything at all.". "Maybe," she said. "You should have thought of that before you kissed me." He couldn't believe she just said that. "I kissed you?" She looked at him with malice. "It wasn't that great for me either, don't worry," she said.

She walked off and Clar wanted to run after her, mostly to shake her and ask why she is like this. But he knew that would fill her with satisfaction, so he didn't, instead he went back into his room.

Simone was in the middle of his room, she looked to be lost. He heard Jayce's words replay nastily in his head. He stepped forward but stopped when. He saw what she was holding. His sketchpad, she had it opened to the drawing he had done of Jayce early.

"Nice drawing," she said. "All those art classes are paying off, I see." Usually Clar would be going off on someone who was looking at his sketchpad without his permission but it wasn't the time right now. "Look, Simone—" "I know how pathetic I look going off to sulk in your room," she interrupted as she threw the sketchpad on his bed. "But i needed to get my stuff."

"Are you going?" he asked "Yes. I've overstayed here. and besides, mundanes really don't belong here, anyway." He let out a frustrated sigh. "I wasn't planning on kissing her, ok? It just happened. I know how much you don't like her.". "That's where you're wrong," she said. "I don't like flat soda. I don't like traffic. I don't like terrible boy band pop. I don't like math. I hate Jayce. There's a difference, see?". "She saved your life, you know," he said but felt terrible for it, because she did it so she wouldn't get in trouble with the clave if either of them got killed.

"Slight details," she said dismissing it. "She's an ass, like those girls in highschool we always avoided, because they thought they were so much better than everyone else. I just thought you were better than actually hooking up with one of them."

Something about that made his temper rise. "Oh, yeah. You're sure on a high horse," he snapped at her. "Talking about going to ask the guy with the best abs to the fall fling." He mocked Erica's tone. Simone's mouth thinned. "So what if she's a jerk at times? It's not like you're my mother or sister, you don't need to like her. I've never liked anyone you dated, but at least I was nice enough to keep it to myself."

"This is different," she said. "How, Simone? How is this in any way different?". "Because I see how you look at her!" she yelled. "I never looked at anyone I dated like that! It was something to do while I waited—'. "For what? Waited for what exactly?" They had never fought like this, all their fights were always about who hate the last cookie or which anime character was better. But he didn't stop, and wanted to again kick himself. "For when Isidore came along? You're lecturing me on Jayce when you have been mooning over him like a foo!' he realized he yelled it.

"I was trying to make you jealous!" she yelled back. "Sometimes you are so stupid, Clar. you can't even see what's in front of you." He just stared, what did she mean by that? "Make me jealous? But why?" He saw the look on her face and realized that was the last thing he should have asked. Bitterly she said. "Because, I've been in love you for the last ten years. I thought maybe I should see if you felt the same. But I have my answer now."

She might as well have punched him. He searched for a response but couldn't find one. "Don't even try. There are no words for you to say," she said sharply. He watched her walk away not being able to move, as if he were paralyzed. What was he supposed to say "I love you, as well"? But he didn't. right? She paused at the door for a moment to say. "You want to know what else my mom said about you?" He shook his head, but either she didn't see it or ignored it. "She said you were going to break my heart."

She left, the door shut behind her, and Clar was alone with everything that had happened in such a short amount of time.

Everyone hates him, he thought. He wanted Joan to be here so bad, at least she wouldn't hate him.

Tag list: @khaleesiofalicante @chibi-tsukiko @spotsandclawsthings @megs-readstoomuch @replayfootsteps @magnus-the-maqnificent @jazzkaurtheglorious @simply-ellas-stuff @bookfast-at-tiffanys @my-archerboy

[anika-ann]

WINSoD - Pt.2

We Move Together...

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2, part 3)  

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 2400

Summary: In which Steve might get a bit tipsy and jealous in a sweet way. 

A/N: As adertised, What I’d Never Say or Do (Had I Been in My Right Mind) is only refered to as WINSoD. Also - enter Age of Ultron ;)

Warnings: mention of superntural creatures, alcohol, language, briefest mention of death, journalists acting like jerks 

Part 1 (previous chapter)

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The press conference was a thing from nightmares. You did not enjoy all the flashes of cameras; you were not Tony freaking Stark, all charming and witty when over a hundred reporters stumbled through the doorway of the huge conference room. No, you could only manage to be sassy and fun within a circle of your friends. Which you found yourself in anyway, but boy, the presence of the others was still very much apparent and they were the ones asking questions.

Even Bruce had been forced to come, much to his dismay, but him and Clint were for some reason left out when it came to the poisonous questions, their duo considered only unwilling participants of the whole plotting for and against the poor soulmate pair of you and Steve.

You truly envied Thor who was off to Asgard once more. And while you wouldn’t want to be in Bucky’s shoes, you sure as hell wished you could sit this one out as he did, the public still not aware of his existence safe for one priest who had helped him to find his way to Steve.

It was ridiculous. The tone a question was asked with was enough to distinguish whether it was aimed at you and Steve or at someone else. Hell, when it came to you and Steve, they didn’t even bother asking, just stating the facts instead.

“Such a long recovery. That must have been horrible, especially with amnesia involved, wasn’t it.” (Yes, shockingly. What is it to you, huh?)

“Such luck you were able to remember, isn’t it.” (Luck had nothing to do with it. God’s sister has.)

“You must be angry with Captain’s team too, aren’t you.” (No, they are the best, you idiot, this whole thing is a stupid lie.)  

“I am sure you’re willing to share your story since people were grieving for you in such a worship-like way…” (…fuck you.)

In reality, you tried to word your indignation towards this herd-like aggressivity aimed at the Avengers and the blatant pity for you rather carefully, speaking of hardship but justified, and yes, you were very lucky indeed. They didn’t need to know just how much.

Steve received a pretty similar set of questions, but they were more of anger and questioning whether the team was still able to function after such a betrayal that nearly ended up tragically. Steve was surprisingly convincing in his act of a disappointed teammate and friend and expressed hope that they would be able to continue to exist and cooperate, his team slowly earning his trust back.

“Have the outcome had been different, my reaction would be too. But the love of my life is here with me and that is what matters. I cannot begin to say how lucky I am to have her back and I thank God for that every day.”

You bit your cheek so you wouldn’t laugh at the private joke and smiled at him instead, earning a whispering wave of ‘awww’ from the crowd and a blinding mess of camera flashes when you gathered the courage to lean in and kiss Steve’s cheek chastely. The reporters went absolutely nuts.

Tony and Natasha on the other hand had to face the stoning. Seriously, there were being personally attacked, questions dripping venom. But they clearly had more experience and knew how to answer without the cunning reporters being able to twist their words into something else, much to the vultures’ dislike and annoyance. Duo Stark-Romanoff fought back and very effectively.

It filled your chest with pride, having friends capable in so many ways. They were so freaking badass.

It made the whole experience more bearable; that and Steve’s hand always touching you, grounding you and reminding you that never ever he would let you face the wolves alone.

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You all knew that a public apology and trying your best to deal with the press somehow wouldn’t be enough. Well, you had hoped it would, but hadn’t quite believed, expecting to have to more in near future.

You were right, of course, which was why you were currently dressed up (or dolled up, as Steve loved to say, because you were his doll, after all) and forcing yourself to leave the elevator once it would stop, with Steve by your side.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he coaxed, knuckles brushing your cheek tenderly, planting a soft kiss to your temple, too worried about smudging your lipstick despite Natasha’s earlier reassurance that it wouldn’t smudge under any circumstances as she had thoroughly tested.

You tried not to think about that kind of testing and clearly Steve felt the same.

Instead, you gazed into the cerulean blue with a drop of green of his eyes, not convinced. He was being sweet and all, which you appreciated, but in reality, he had no way of knowing it would be alright. Mostly because Tony went all the way and invited all the important people who could influence the public opinion as much as rising stars of whom he felt could influence the public in the near future.

So next to a senator and a group of big-shot businessmen, there would hang out a pair of lawyers sticking for the little guy and right next to a supermodel, there would be a girl starting a new food bank. Thinking about it, it was a funny parallel to Steve and you by his side, except you weren’t doing any good, unlike them. Not that you would say that out loud.

To be fair, the Avengers decided to spice thing up a little by revealing Bucky Barnes being alive, very slowly leaking his story of a brainwashed soldier. Funnily enough, in a shadow of your big reveal, his own went rather quietly.

People were so freakin’ weird.

“I guess I’m gonna survive…” you murmured, ignoring the icy shiver that ran up your spine at your choice of words. Steve’s gaze seemed to turn distant for a moment before coming back to you, some of the strength he had been trying to project into you disappearing in the wind because of the painful memory. “Sorry. That was-“

The emotion no doubt twisting his gut caused his inhibitions to fly out of the window and his lips captured yours in a searing kiss that took your breath away. You melted against his muscular frame that seemed to engulf you completely, his calloused fingers grabbing onto your bare shoulders, digging in a bit deeper than necessary.

Your head was spinning with the passion displayed so openly and in the back of your mind, you registered that the elevator stopped, but before you could get to the idea of thanking Tony’s AI, your brain got side-tracked when Steve shamelessly licked into your mouth and backed you into the railing by the wall.

Feeling the familiar heat pool in your lower abdomen, sending sizzling heat through your veins, you instinctively gripped the lapels of his suit jacket when his lips retreated to give you a chance to breathe in.

Who needed breathing anyway?

He grinned against your mouth, the little shit he was, and one of his hands guided your head to a tilt for better access. You most definitely whimpered at that as his body trapped you against the wall completely, not leaving an inch in between.

Feeling him this close would never get old and you thought you might burst by the time his mouth moved to your left ear, keeping you in place while his hand moved from your shoulder to trace the line of your dress, slipping between the high slit of your dress to caress your thigh.

“Watch your mouth, doll. Or I’m gonna have to do exactly this to shut you up every time you don’t,” he whispered and your ragged breath caught in your throat when the perfect comeback popped in your head – a reasonable one, surprisingly enough.

“I bet the press would love that.”

His fingers flexed on your leg and his teeth very carefully nibbled on the skin of your neck, causing your heart to skip a beat.

“Don’t care about the press,” he growled lowly, sighing as if in pain when he slowly pulled back, leaving you clutching the railing so you wouldn’t fall as your legs turned into an uncontrollable wobbly mass. Then, as if he wanted to ruin you completely before the night even started, his lips were graced by a soft smile, his eyes twinkling. “I care about you.”

“And you call me trouble…”

He had the nerve to wink at you and thank the AI for the stop he never explicitly asked for.

“My pleasure, Steve,” Jarvis hummed, sounding amused and self-satisfied.

Your soulmate gentlemanly offered you an elbow to lead you out of the cabin.

“Shall we, my lady?”

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In all honesty, the party wasn’t that bad, mostly because it wasn’t just to celebrate your resurrection, but also retrieving a sceptre Thor’s brother had used during The Battle of New York.

You wouldn’t go as far as saying you enjoyed the evening greatly, but you had met several interesting people of which only few had weird questions regarding you; however, weird questions when showing up in public was an everyday occurrence.

You finally truly understood why Steve was happy you treated him like an equal (most of the time anyway).

Every single original male Avenger and Sam and Bucky made sure to dance with you as well as with Natasha and for a good measure, when the song got the right beat, your favourite redhead dragged you to the dance floor for a friendly dance; needless to say Natasha was much better at spontaneous dancing than you. Steve assured you about the opposite by a kiss and a rather filthy promise as soon as you shared your thoughts on your lacking skills with him.

Actually--- yes, you might even say you enjoyed the party very much, uncharacteristically for you, considering the insane number of people attending. The penthouse was way too full, but here you were, sipping on your third glass of champagne, listening to Thor’s colourful narrating regarding Asgardian battles. It wasn’t that you were interested in battles, no – it was the man himself creating suspense and gesturing wildly and making the whole clutch of listeners breathless.

“Careful with the admiring, doll,” Steve whispered to your ear, his arm sneaking around your waist out of nowhere, nearly making you jump out of your skin. “I might get jealous.”

Giddy from the alcohol, you turned your head and brushed his lips with yours.

“We did establish I’d marry Thor if you weren’t an option, didn’t we?” you teased lowly, catching the wink Thor sent your direction as if he heard you despite your hushed voice. It wasn’t flirtation; no, it felt more like mischief, as if he was being your wingman, which he excelled at apparently, because Steve might get little possessive if the grunt by your ear was anything to go by. “As if you didn’t know I only have eyes for you.”

“Just eyes?”

“Why, Captain, are you implying something?”

“Maybe.”

“Of course, my heart is yours as well,” you smirked at him, making his somehow annoyed and pleased at the same time. You leaned even closer. “And everything else.”

“Alright, but what about that hammer of yours? I mean, I saw people swinging around Captain’s shield – though not as skilfully – but no one uses your weapon. Why? Is it that heavy? Are you the only one strong enough to… keep it up?” one of the women asked, apparently more than a little tipsy, judging by her implication.

Gee, she had no inhibitions. Were you being like this now? You really hoped not…

“Well, my lady, that is a very complicated matter…” Thor started, clearly pleased by that question.

“Dance with me again,” sounded softly at your ear and your lips automatically curled up in a smile.

“Whatever makes you happy, my love.”

Steve grinned as he swiftly got rid of the glass in your hand and was already pulling you away by the time you noticed the envious or the amused stares of your companions.

“Green’s not a good colour on you, Steve,” you hummed incidentally, earning an actual pout. “This is adorable though. And I’m not gonna complain about you getting a bit handsy more often.”

“Trouble, doll.”

“I love you too.”

“I do love you. I’m sorry if I got annoying. It’s just… ugh. Thor. You got this look in your eyes and I just-”

Oh.

You sometimes forgot Steve could be as self-conscious as you were. It made your heart ache and yet grow with fondness for your soulmate.

“No, Steve. I might get starry-eyed, because of course I do admire him. It’s easy to get captivated by his stories or his manners, just look at the crowd around him. But you… there’s something about you… that strikes me right here.” You tapped over your heart pointedly. “You know me through and through and yet here you are. You must know I’m yours and still – you treat me every day like you’re courting me and at the same time, we’re comfortable with each other and--- yeah, that. Thor is great. But you’re everything. You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” he confirmed, brilliant eyes shining, the drops of Asgardian liquor he had consumed adding to the glow. “And you’re mine.”

“Meant to be…” you cooed, happily giving in to his lips when they found yours again for a short moment. You barely realized you stopped in your steps as the slow song had made you only sway. You whispered into his lips then, unbothered. “Plus, I bet you could lift that hammer and keep it up too if you tried.”

His rich laughter filled your ears and he spun you both in circle, planting a kiss on your forehead. You already planned on how you’d get him a custom-made mug with a little hammer on it, reading ‘I am worthy’ or something like that. You were sure he’d love it.

Yeah, it was an amazing party.

Here was a funny thing though; when you had already been confronted with the fact angels and God existed, you should have known blasphemy was a thing.

So, naturally, as you had said ‘I guess I’m gonna survive…’, you should have known there would be a thick chance that you wouldn’t.

That was the first thing that flew through your mind the moment something burst through a wall as if it was made paper thin and not metal.

The second thought? Oh shit.

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Part 3

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Thank you for reading! 

Like I said, chapters of this fic will be less chronologically tight. Buuut, you’ll see ;) Also, sorry it took me so long.

[thebestpersonherelovesbucky]

When Lightning Strikes Twice

Summary: Ten years ago, Steve Rogers made the mistake of letting go of the love of his life, Bucky Barnes. 

Today, Bucky is getting remarried. 

Steve is just gonna have to deal with that because lightning never strikes the same place twice. 

Everyone knows that. 

((essentially just a reworking of the ending of that movie Sweet Home Alabama))

Characters: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 1.6k

Tags: past relationship, fluff, marriage

written for @captain-rogers-beard​‘s  Flex Your Writing Muscles Challenge.

Prompt: 

Thunder claps overhead. Off in the distance, lightning scatters through the clouds. Steve walks along the shoreline, kicking up sand with each step. Under his arms, he carries a few more lightning rods. He’s already shoved a few into the ground. He wonders briefly about the wedding and immediately tries to push the thought out of his mind. The love of his life is marrying someone else tonight and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

Well, no. There is one thing he can do. He can be happy for Bucky. Steve loves him and has loved him since they were a couple’ve kids running around the streets of Brooklyn getting into trouble. All he wants is Bucky’s happiness. Even if that means he’s found it with another person. Steve can be happy for him. 

And he will be. He just...needs a little time.

It’s just hard when he remembers everything. Every kiss. Every fight. Every time they said they’d love each other to the end of the line. Steve even remembers when they were ten-years-old and walked along this very same beach to watch the storm clouds roll in and Steve first proposed the idea of marriage. 

“What’re you talkin’ about, punk?” Bucky had laughed. “I’m only ten-years-old. I’m gonna see the world! Travel! Learn about everything! I can’t do that with a husband.”

“Why not, jerk?” Steve asked. “What’s so wrong with bein’ married?”

“Nothin’.” Bucky shrugged. “But you want roots and I want wings!”

Bucky held his arms out and his head back, and just as he started spinning around in a circle, it began to pour. Big, thick drops of water dropping down on them in an instant. 

They shrieked and laughed and opened their mouths to catch the rain with their tongues. They held hands to dance and tumbled all over each other. They let loose a blood-curling scream when lightning struck just a few yards away from them. 

Steve turned to run back the way they came, but Bucky grabbed onto his wrist to pull him where the sand had been hit.

“Not that way! This way!” 

“Why?!”

“Because lightning never strikes the same place twice!” he yelled back. “Everyone knows that!”

When they reached the smoking spot on the beach, they were shocked to discover what the lightning left behind. It looked like glass. Smooth and iridescent. 

Without thinking, Steve reached out to touch it, but Bucky made sure that he didn’t.

“Don’t touch it, dummy, it’s hot.”

“What is it?”

“I dunno.” Bucky looked at him with a smile. “Why would you wanna marry me anyway?” 

Steve glanced into those steel-blue eyes. Like glaciers. Not cold, but sparking and filled with hidden depths. And he only had one answer.

“So I can kiss you any time I want.”

Those eyes widened and brightened with a smile, and Steve, smaller than him then, wrapped his arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his lips.

They found out later that the lightning hitting the sand just right caused fulgurite. Steve’s made a living out of collecting it and turning it into glass sculptures while Bucky found his calling across the country as an author. 

Steve has all of his books. Romances mostly. Space adventures and magic and love in all its beautiful forms. 

Steve had been heartbroken when Bucky left for California ten years ago to pursue an education in creative writing. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault even though Steve tried like hell to blame him. Bucky asked Steve to go with him after he’d been offered a coveted writer’s fellowship to the University of Southern California. Steve, stubborn to the core, told him New York was their home.

He knew immediately that he’d made the biggest mistake of his life when he came home to an empty apartment. Steve even went out there once about a month after he left to try to win him back. To convince him to come home with him. 

When Steve got there with flowers and ready to declare his love for him, he happened to see Bucky coming out of his new building, he stumbled to a halt. Bucky looked amazing. Brilliant and beautiful as his eyes fell closed and he smiled up at the bright, sunny sky.  

There Bucky was. Wings spread and soaring. And Steve couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to try to clip those amazing wings and have him crash to the ground just because Steve wanted to be his husband. Bucky deserved better.

So Steve went back home to New York, signed the divorce papers so that Bucky could fly without him, and started his art studio. Wanted to make something of himself so maybe he could win Bucky’s love again. 

What he hadn’t expected was Bucky showing up about thirty days ago engaged to someone else. Almost as though he was seeking his permission. Or blessing. Or...Steve’s not sure. 

But seeing him after all these years, after the initial awkwardness, felt as though not a day had gone by. They laughed. They teased each other. They caught up. All the while Bucky and his family here in New York made the final plans for his wedding. 

Bucky even stopped by the other day with an invitation. A part of Steve wants to follow his mother’s advice and go to the wedding. But Steve thought the ex-husband at the new wedding would be a little weird. Not to mention heartbreaking. Sure, their marriage right out of high school didn’t even last the full summer, but still. Weird. 

Those dark clouds are rolling in faster now and the next thunderclap brings with it a downpour. Well, at least the world can cry with him. 

Steve chuckles darkly at his ridiculous thoughts and wipes those few tears away with the back of his arm as he works another lightning rod into the sand. He made his biggest mistake. Now he has to live with his biggest regret. 

“Hey!”

The shout from behind him, just loud enough to be heard over the pounding rain and rumbling skies, startles Steve. He turns. Sees Bucky standing there, wearing a tux, no shoes, and sopping wet. Water drips off the ends of his hair, which, up until a few moments ago was probably styled beautifully. Doesn’t matter that he’s soaked to the bone and in a ruined tuxedo. He still looks gorgeous. 

For a moment, Steve just stares. To be honest, he’s not entirely sure he’s not imagining this. 

“Bucky?”

“I got somethin’ to say to you, punk.”

“What’re you doin’ here?!” Steve calls back over all the noise. “Aren’t you supposed to be at a wedding?” 

“Yes! Yes, I was!” Bucky sounds angry. He looks angry, too, but Steve isn’t sure what he did this time. “I was supposed to get married!”

“Did...did you...not get married?”

“No! No, I didn’t get married!” He huffs and shakes his head. “I didn’t get married because the person I’m in love with wasn’t there!”

Steve’s heart skips a beat. He knows he fucked up, but he can’t imagine someone else making the same mistake he did. How could anyone ever let him go?

“Were you...left at the altar?”

“Oh, no. No, they were there. But you weren’t! You weren’t there, Steve!” He stomps his foot and growls through his teeth. “Why didn’t you come after me?” Bucky steps up and punches Steve once in the arm. Hard. And then does it again and again. “I waited for you, Steve! I waited ten years and you never came!”

“I...I did...” Steve tries to say as he cringes away from Bucky’s anger which hurts a hell of a lot more than any of his punches. “I came after you, Bucky, I swear!” 

Bucky takes a breath, a step back, and wipes his face of some of the water dripping down it.

“You...you did?”

Steve nods. “I did. About a month after you left. But I saw how happy you looked and I...I couldn’t ask you to give that up. A-and, I thought that if you flew, then you’d fly away from me. But I also didn’t want to be a stone around your neck. Bucky, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I let you go without a fight. I”m sorry I didn’t go with you. I--” 

“Steve...” Bucky reaches out and touches Steve’s cheek. “You were never a stone around my neck. I thought spreading my wings meant that I couldn’t keep my roots. But when I saw you here again and...I realized that I can have my wings and my roots. I want you to be there when I land. Just like I wanted you to be there when I flew. Because I love you, Steve.” 

The glands in Steve’s throat swell. He thinks he might burst into tears. If Bucky’s really saying what he thinks is... 

“I...I love you, too, Bucky. But...what if we had our shot already?” he asks. “You said it yourself, lightning never strikes the same place twice.” 

This makes Bucky smiles with a shake of his head. 

“You silly punk,” he says. “It already struck. I wanna marry you and spend the rest of my life with you.”

Heart growing beneath his ribs, Steve can’t help but grin wildly at that. At Bucky saying he left his own wedding, tracked Steve down to their spot on the beach, and came out in the pouring rain just to tell him he loves him. 

“Why would you wanna be married to me, Bucky?”

Bucky’s smile makes his eyes sparkle brighter than any stars hiding behind the storm clouds.

“So I can kiss you anytime I want.” 

An elated giggle bubbles through Steve’s chest as Bucky flings his arms around his neck and they kiss, and when their own lightning strikes, something beautiful is created all around them. 

[unadulterated-strawberryniall]

Normal People, Abnormal Jobs. [Chapter 2]

Normal People, Abnormal Jobs. Relationships in the entertainment industry are never easy. Scheduling is nearly impossible, paparazzi hound you down every date, and everyone seems to weigh in their opinion. Is it possible to have a soulmate with such a demanding career?

Loosely inspired by the 2020 Hulu drama, Normal People, this story explores the possibility of finding true love in a world motivated by reputation, scandal, and money. Touching on themes of love, mental health, and adulthood, Normal People, Abnormal Jobs navigates how two musicians from opposing worlds maneuver a destiny that consistently pulls them together. It’s challenging, yes, but if it’s true love, it’s worth it.

Chapter 1.

The thumping bass of whatever house music was playing was starting to give me a headache. I wasn’t really one for the club scene. I fell more into the hole-in-the-wall pub scene. Better yet, just having a glass of wine at home. 230 Fifth, one of New York’s iconic rooftop bars, felt like a universe away from where I really wanted to be.

It felt like I had been waiting here for hours, when in reality, as I checked my watch, I’d only been here for 23 minutes. I yawned as my phone screen flashed, reminding me of tomorrow’s packed schedule. I know I hadn’t been here long, but it all felt useless, and I figured now would be a great time to make an escape.

Pushing through the crowd on the dancefloor, I started to think how silly I was for even showing up in the first place. After finishing my interviews, I threw myself into a complex beauty routine, exfoliating my skin, tweezing any loose eyebrow hairs, and giving my nails a fresh coat of polish. All on the off chance I ran into Niall tonight, which clearly wasn’t happening.

Would your nails seduce him? Would he be so wowed by your clean eyebrows that he’d want to sleep with you? Stupid. Waste of time. Of course he doesn’t want you.

Don’t go to war with yourself.

If he wanted to see you, he’d be here. With you. You’re getting stood up.

Everything that’s happening to you is what’s supposed to be happening to you, so just relax.

I gave my head a shake, hoping the motion would physically shake the voices from my mind. I felt someone grab my wrist, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“‘Ey! I was hopin’ I’d see ya tonight!” The accent rang through my ears, over whatever high pitched synth was ringing through the speakers, and immediately brought a sense of relief. “Are ya leavin’?” He raised an eyebrow at me, flicking his gaze from my eyes to the direction of the door I was heading to.

“I…” I couldn’t find the words to say as the grip from his fingertips left me feeling more intoxicated than any cocktail I’d ever had.

“Let me treat ya to a drink.” He took a step closer to me, placing my hand on his chest. “What would ya like?”

“Vodka cranberry.” I breathed out, just loud enough for him to hear. My fingers grazed against the open buttons of his shirt, where little wisps of chest hair poked out. He grabbed my hand again, leading me to the bar.

As he leaned over the counter top to catch the attention of a bartender and order our drinks, I couldn’t help but begin to think how hauntingly beautiful he was. My eyes scanned his body, from his hair, thick and perfectly disheveled, to the flecks of gold in his facial hair, to his biceps, which flexed gently as he leaned against the counter, to his long, skinny legs, that ended with the off-white converse on his feet. I felt breathless around him. My stomach began to twist, and I placed a reassuring hand against it while taking a deep breath.

Niall glanced at me. “You alright?”

I didn’t respond immediately, but the bartender commanded his attention with the drinks before he could say anything else. He had ordered something dark, perhaps a rum and coke? I couldn’t tell.

“Let’s find somewhere t’ chat.” He whispered in my ear, leading the way out of the club to an outdoor portion of the bar. 

Since most of the party was focused on the dancefloor, this area was nearly empty, and Niall pulled me over to the balcony. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He looked out to the various buildings, most notably, the Empire State Building. The building was flashing rainbow lights towards the top.

“Yeah, it is.” I mumbled. But I wasn’t looking at the skyline. I was looking at Niall. A light breeze ran through the air, whirling a tuft of Niall’s hair with it. He turned to face me and smiled.

“That was a fuckin’ great performance earlier. But I saw ya cryin’ after. Everything ok?” He took a sip of his drink, not taking his eyes off me.

I blushed. “Oh, well… I’m fine now. I was dealing with a lot of anxiety leading up to this. First performance in a long time, you know? I guess it was just a release after the build up. I dealt with a lot of mental shit throughout the pandemic. Anxiety, depression, isolation… Not that I was the only one but… It was tough.” I realized I was rambling and took a sip from my glass to fill the silence that ensued. The ice rattled against the glass as my hand shook uncontrollably.

“It’s very brave of ya t’ talk about dat.” Niall pointed out.

“I didn’t mean to.” I looked down. 

Niall took a step closer to me. “No, it’s great. We need more people like ya. I deal with dat shit too sometimes. I don’t like to talk about it. You’re much braver than me.”

I shrugged, unsure of what to say. I wasn’t the best at handling compliments, and I hardly thought going on about mental issues was worthy of one.

“I didn’t get to catch your performance. Wish I did, though.” I placed my half-empty glass on the table beside me.

Niall turned out to face the view, leaning against the railing. “Eh, it was alright. Happy to be back on stage.”

“I didn’t think you’d be into my music, to be honest.” I chewed my lip, wondering what the hell caused me to say that.

That was the small talk you chose?

“What makes you say dat?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“I’m a bit more… grungier than your sound.” I was referring to my brand as a punk artist, while I knew Niall had settled into an acoustic pop genre. In honesty, I hadn’t heard much of his music myself. But I would have to live under a rock to be unaware of his presence in One Direction.

“I listen t’ everything. Rock, rap, country, dubstep.”

I laughed, but Niall kept a straight face.

“I’ve been following you for awhile. On the charts.”

“Wow. I wouldn’t have expected that.”

“There’s no one like you, Mina. You’re one of a kind.” Niall turned to face me once again, and I realized he’d already finished his drink. Our bodies were brushing up against each other at this point, and I could feel myself being drawn into him like a tidal wave.

“Is what I think about to happen going to happen?” I closed my eyes, feeling Niall’s breath hit my face.

“Yeh.” He whispered.

“I don’t think it would be good... If people found out…” But my hands were already slinking their way around his waist.

“No one would have to know.”

And before I could get another word out, his lips were pressed against mine. 

Fire, electricity, all the forces in the universe clashing together and colliding between us. I pushed my body against his, desperate to feel him. All of him. His hands were placed gently on my cheeks, which were growing hotter by the second. He nipped his tongue against my bottom lip, making me crave him even more. I nibbled at his lips, praying to every possible deity that this moment would never end.

Why are you so obsessed with him? Creepy bitch.

This is nice. Just let yourself be happy.

You don’t deserve to be happy.

I pulled away almost immediately, bringing my hands to my eyes.

“Are ya okay?” Niall mumbled simply, although he looked like he’d just been hit by a truck. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were wide. He was taking soft, shallow breaths.

“Fine.” I coughed, swallowing the lump in my throat. “That was nice.” I turned back to face him, forcing a smile.

He peered at me for a moment, but didn’t press whatever curiosities he had further. “It was. We should do it again.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine.

The sheer force made my knees feel weak. I wanted to collapse. It was all too much, too soon. My stomach twisted. I felt at any moment I was going to be sick.

This time, Niall pulled away. “Mina, I can feel something’s wrong. It’s alright. We don’t have to do dat anymore.” He nodded, taking a step back to give me space.

I leaned against the wall of the building, tilting my head back and closing my eyes. I took deep breaths to steady myself, cursing myself for reacting this way. I couldn’t figure out exactly how long I’d been standing there, but when I opened my eyes, I noticed Niall sitting in front of me, watching me intensely.

“You don’t need to stay.” I whispered.

“Of course I do. I’m not leavin’ you out here alone.” He shook his head. “Take all the time you need, I’ll get you back to your place when you’re ready.”

“Niall-” I began to protest, but he stood up and pressed a finger to my lips. I wondered if he was aware of the effect he had on me.

He returned to his seat, giving me a nod.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, before the pandemic, I went through this breakup-” I started again.

“You don’t need to explain anything t’me. Just relax.”

I stared at him for a few more moments before deciding it was time to wrap up the night. Niall hailed a cab for us, opening the door for me and helping me in, all without letting go of my hand. He never pressed for conversation, he never pressured me to kiss him, he simply offered a hand to hold. A hand that I held desperately until the very end of the cab ride.

“Would you like me to walk you to your room? Obviously not to…” Niall paused. “But t’ make sure yer safe.”

I nodded. My eyes felt heavy and suddenly, I couldn’t stand the thought of not being in bed anymore. Niall helped me out of the taxi, and I dragged my feet along the shiny hotel floors, my eyes closing while Niall led the way. It suddenly occurred to me how emotionally draining the day had been. The anticipation leading up to the performance, the breakdown after the performance, the interviews, and of course, everything with Niall. I was too tired to feel anxious anymore. I could feel myself slipping in and out of consciousness.

I don’t remember getting to my room, or changing into pajamas, or even falling asleep. But I do know that the following morning, when my alarm blared to wake me up for today’s interviews, a pair of beautiful, blue eyes greeted me as I opened mine.

[silver-lily-louise]

The Finer Things In Life

Summary: Magnus comes back into view, hand-to-hand with the last Circle member as he conserves what’s left of his magic after a gruelling battle. Magnus clearly has the upper hand, his centuries of combat experience making itself known – The Circle member loses their footing, stumbling into Magnus and knocking him overboard. (In which Magnus is forced to face an old fear, and Alec's a supportive husband.)

Read it on AO3, or below!

~oOo~

Maybe we should start asking them to come to us, Alec thinks irritably, even as his arrows strike home in the hearts of three more demons. Across the deck, there’s a high-pitched explosion as Magnus dispatches two Shadowhunters – Circle members, who’ve crawled out of the woodwork yet again, still loyal to the cause even after their network’s been all but eradicated.

The boat rocks slightly, the docks tilting in and out of Alec’s peripheral vision on his right; his core flexes, keeping him steady enough to send the next arrow through the skull of one of Jace’s assailants. He’s not complaining about being roped into this – he’d much rather that than have one of his siblings come home hurt, or worse – but lately it feels like every time he and Magnus are back in New York for a visit, there’s some emergency. Usually, one big enough that Isabelle has to leave the Institute and head up her own team, rather than managing remotely through Ops as she does day-to-day. And when things are that serious, of course the two of them are going to help out. 

The sounds of fighting are beginning to die down, now; on their boat, and echoing across from the three others nearby. It was a well-coordinated attack, Isabelle’s tactical mastery coming into play, and the Circle members – as well as the hordes of demons they’d been summoning – are dropping like flies, unprepared for the onslaught of what is pretty much the entire New York Institute.

But they’re not out of the woods just yet; a fact Alec is immediately reminded of as Magnus comes back into view on his left, hand-to-hand with the last Circle member as he conserves what’s left of his magic after a gruelling battle. Magnus clearly has the upper hand, his centuries of combat experience making itself known – so Alec aims his bow towards the last few demons instead, content to simply keep an eye on Magnus in case the tables turn and he could use an assist.

Which is how he witnesses the Circle member losing their footing, stumbling into Magnus and knocking him overboard.

Alec’s stomach drops. ‘Magnus!’ he yells, running for the edge, leaping over the Circle member’s prone form even as one of Clary’s throwing daggers sinks into their neck. He leans over the railing, scanning the water – and there’s a moment of relief as his gaze quickly finds Magnus, upright and moving. But it’s short-lived, because Magnus isn’t just moving – he’s desperately striking out, his arms almost a blur, his head occasionally dipping beneath the surface.

He can’t get out. The realisation seems to punch Alec in the gut. The docks are too high to climb, he was low on magic, he can’t get out - ‘Izzy, pull us up!’ he hollers – and he doesn’t wait for a reply before he holsters his weapons and jumps.

Alec hits the water feet first, arms crossed over his chest, and the impact somehow knocks the air from his lungs. He scrambles upwards, gasping for breath as he breaches the surface, eyes immediately finding his husband again. ‘Magnus!’ He strikes out towards him, calling his name over and over but not getting any response.

Several painful, eternal seconds later, he’s close enough to reach out, treading water as he tries to avoid Magnus’ flailing attempts to keep himself afloat. ‘Magnus- Magnus!’ Alec manages to grab his husband’s wrist, giving himself a window of opportunity to close the last of the distance between them and take a still-struggling Magnus firmly in his arms. ‘Magnus, honey, you gotta calm down, okay? I got you. I got you, it’s okay.’

Magnus finally stills, his arms latching around Alec’s neck in a death grip, his breaths heavy and irregular against Alec’s throat. ‘Alright, you with me?’ Alec asks, and he feels a nod against the crook of his neck. ‘Okay. I’m gonna take us back to the boat.’ His right arm leaves Magnus’ waist as he begins propelling them back towards safety, and Magnus’ hold on him gets impossibly tighter. Alec leans back, kicking more strongly now.

He glances over his shoulder, changing trajectory a little as he sees the glint of silver, reaching out towards it the second he can. He wraps the end of the whip around his hand a few times and clutches it, before giving a couple of sharp tugs. ‘Alright, going up,’ he murmurs. ‘Just hold on. I got you.’ The whip digs into his palm as they’re pulled up, his shoulder aching in protest. He ignores it all and just holds on for dear life.

And then there are hands on him, Izzy and Jace and Clary grabbing ahold and heaving the pair of them back up onto the deck – and then he’s kneeling, Magnus still held tightly in his arms. ‘Magnus?’ Clary says, tentatively, keeping her distance. ‘You guys okay?’ Jace asks.

‘Yeah, we’re okay,’ Alec confirms, because he doesn’t think Magnus is up to talking just yet, still hiding his face in Alec’s shoulder. ‘We’re okay,’ he repeats, dropping his voice again so it’s just for Magnus’ ears. ‘It’s okay, honey, I got you -’ He knows he’s repeating himself, knows some of what he says is meaningless. But he keeps it up, his idle, anxious comfort, a quiet voice to reassure while Magnus gradually loosens his grip and gets his bearings.

It’s not long before Magnus is pulling away, taking a deep breath, glamored eyes flicking between Alec and the others. ‘Alright,’ he says softly, his mouth tugging up into a half-hearted reassurance of a smile. ‘Alright.’ He nods decisively, seemingly to himself, leaning on Alec a little as they get to their feet.

There’s the quiet buzz of approaching voices, the teams from the lower decks making their way to the top. Izzy throws Magnus a smile, wordlessly excusing herself to check in with them, and Jace swiftly follows. ‘Clary,’ Alec says, ‘can you get us out of here?’ Magnus is already tensing up a little, ready to put on a brave face in front of Izzy’s troops, and Alec would much rather just get him home before it becomes an issue. Clary nods. ‘Sure, yeah.’ She pulls out her stele, deftly tracing out the portal rune, and the golden gateway blinks into existence before them. ‘Thank you, Biscuit,’ Magnus says. Clary smiles, laying a hand on his arm. ‘We’ll see you again before you head back, right?’ ‘Of course,’ Magnus reassures her. Alec shoots her a grateful look, and then he and Magnus step through the portal together.

The docks dissolve around them, replaced by the white glow of their suite at the Baccarat. (Before they left Alicante, Alec had pointed out that he has a perfectly serviceable room still available at the Institute, but Magnus had insisted. Alexander, he’d said, amusement coloring his tone, I will convince you to enjoy the finer things in life if it’s the last thing I do.) Alec stifles a chuckle, because nothing says yeah, I belong in a premier suite at a five-star hotel like standing in the middle of one whilst covered in blood and ichor and silt.

He turns to face Magnus with a soft smile. ‘Shower, then food?’ he suggests. Magnus gives a deep sigh, nodding once. ‘Absolutely.’

***

An hour and a half later, they’re clean and dry, warm and well-fed. Alec’s iratze is holding strong, soothing the ache in his shoulder. He busies himself for a few minutes by tidying away the leftover cavatelli, and then wanders over to join Magnus on the couch, sinking down beside him with a groan. Magnus’ mouth quirks. ‘Quite a day, hm?’ Alec just hums in agreement.

They’re quiet for a while, comfortable in each other’s company, only the low strains of a waltz breaking the silence. Part of the melody falls in a tripped, steady pattern, and Alec taps it with his fingers, smiling when he realises why it seems so familiar. ‘Was this… written for a warlock, or something?’ Magnus frowns a little, looking at him curiously. ‘I have absolutely no idea. Why do you ask?’ Alec taps a little more insistently. ‘That rhythm – it’s a heartbeat, like yours. That… badum-ta. Badum-ta.’ It’s a rhythm that he knows as well as his own heart’s ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum at this point.

Magnus’ gaze meets his briefly, seeming to melt a little. ‘So it is. Perhaps I’ll look it up when we get home.’ He looks away again – but the spell of silence seems to be broken, and he sighs. ‘Alexander, I realised that I haven’t yet thanked you for today. For pulling me out of there.’ Alec just shakes his head. ‘You don’t need to thank me for that,’ he says softly. ‘I’ll always help you if I can.’ ‘And I appreciate that, I do. But you shouldn’t have had to today.’ Magnus’ jaw twitches in self-annoyance. ‘There was no danger. There was no reason for me to react the way I did,’ he chides.

Alec sits forward a little. ‘Hey,’ he says gently, waiting until Magnus meets his eyes again. ‘You know that’s not true. You told me what happened when you were a kid, and the effect it had on you.’ He reaches out, fingertips brushing against Magnus’ forearm. ‘Magnus, everyone’s afraid of something. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re the strongest person I know.’

There’s quiet again for a moment – and then Alec watches, relieved, as the last of his husband’s doubt and embarrassment fades, leaving only a fond smile. ‘When did you get so wise, Alexander?’ Magnus murmurs. Alec sits back again, letting out a deep, contented breath. ‘Learned from the best,’ he says.

Magnus takes his hand, claiming it as he leans back against Alec’s shoulder. ‘You know,’ he says airily, ‘I didn’t realise we were revisiting the pet names conversation.’ ‘What? Are we?’ Alec says, confused. ‘I assumed so. After all, earlier, when you dove in to get me? You called me honey. Twice.’ He glances back up at Alec, giving a small, mischievous grin.

Alec’s face contorts for a moment as he tries to find an appropriate response. ‘…I guess I did,’ he says finally, feeling a low blush spread across his face. He shrugs, deceptively casual. ‘Well, it’s accurate.’ Magnus’ teasing smile grows. ‘Oh?’ Alec knows what he’s expecting. Because you’re sweet. It’s true, of course; but what he actually says is, ‘Yeah, I mean – you came into my life one day and just …stuck. And before I even knew what was happening, you were everywhere.’

Magnus’ head snaps up, and he stares at Alec in incredulous offence. ‘That’s your reasoning?’ Alec tries to look as innocent as he can. ‘Of course,’ he says, before wrinkling his brow a little in apparent confusion. ‘Why, what did you think I was gonna say?’ Unfortunately, he can’t keep a straight face for long – he blames the wine they had with dinner – and of course, once he cracks, Magnus isn’t far behind. ‘Alright, I will admit,’ Magnus says grudgingly, ‘that your line of reasoning is slightly adorable.’ Alec smiles in triumph. ‘And by the way,’ he says – more softly, now – ‘I’m really glad you did. Stick around, I mean.’

Magnus returns his smile – and then sighs, resettling against him. ‘You do realise,’ he says, slyly, ‘that if you’re now calling me ‘honey’, that puts ‘pup’ back on the table.’ ‘Absolutely not,’ Alec declares.

The rest of the evening devolves into bickering and laughter and slow, sweet kisses, the music with a warlock’s heartbeat rippling around them. He loves Magnus more than anyone in the world, but he’s also pretty sure his husband was wrong yesterday. Alec definitely appreciates the finest things in his life.

[wordywarriorwrites]

Chapter 20: Evermore

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn  A03 Story Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites​ Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration with the prompt, “Why did you do it?” & @sherrybaby14 Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge with the prompt, “Show me. Prove that you can handle me.” Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities. *Re-blogs are welcome. Plagiarism isn’t. *

One Month Later…

The Tuileries and Carousel Gardens, adjacent to the Louvre, between the museum and the Place de la Concorde – that’s where Mason tried to convince Steve to meet him for the final time.

It was a very public and neutral spot, but there was nothing impersonal about the situation they’d found themselves in. Mason had explained the photographs and made recompense to Bucky, and for the sake of his own sanity, Steve accepted it, and felt the subject was closed. Mason, on the other hand, believed they had unfinished business to discuss, and wanted to talk about it in person.

As Steve stared out at the view of the Eiffel Tower, Mason went on speaking, and pointed out the facts as he saw them. He believed they were good together, the attraction was mutual, and in the short time they’d been in each other’s company, they’d been happy. To him, it was as simple as that, and he couldn’t understand why Steve would choose to give it up so precipitously.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Steve told him. “And you won’t change my mind.”  

The hedged response hung in the air for some time before Mason called out the proverbial elephant in the room. He asked if he was going back to Brooklyn to be with Bucky, and since Steve still respected him enough to be honest, he didn’t lie. Mason was a tenacious man, but he wasn’t ignorant, and he didn’t press for further explanation.

“Tu retournes chercher ton cœur,” he bemoaned. “I cannot be angry at you for that.”

The conversation ended as amicably as he could’ve ever hoped for, and when Steve hung up the phone, he was suddenly hit with a mixture of relief and apprehension. He wasn’t just leaving France and what might’ve been; he was returning home to the unknown, and the uncertainty of it all was overwhelming.

He and Bucky and been in a bubble. Two weeks of in-patient observation, two weeks of out-patient recovery, and a final post-op physical to determine whether or not he was well enough to travel. A month of nothing more than one-on-one talking, listening, and getting used to each other all over again.

Steve had nearly forgotten what it was like to be so in tune with someone, and there were moments when he would look at Bucky and feel as if there had been no time, distance, or animosity between them. They had never been nor would they ever be strangers, and their shared experiences had bonded them in profound, inexplicable ways, but they weren’t delusional about the effort they’d have to put into making it work. They’d hurt each other severely, and neither of them could erase that pain or rebuild several years’ worth of trust overnight, but the true test of their mettle would be when they got back to Brooklyn…

A soft knock on the adjoining door brought Steve back to himself. He called out that it was open, and a moment later, the subject of his thoughts stepped out on the balcony.

Bucky excitedly declared the doctors gave him a clean bill of health. Steve nodded at the good news, which was followed up by Bucky stating they could leave as soon as that very evening. He must’ve made a noncommittal sound, because the following morning was also deemed acceptable.

“Or we could stay forever,” he offered nonchalantly. “I could become a Moulin Rouge dancer, and you can, I don’t know – paint nude portraits of Frenchmen with their poodles.”

Steve turned to him and furrowed his brow, “I’m sorry - what?”

Bucky laughed and shook his head, “You worried about going home?”

“Honestly? Yeah, I am.”

The Families and the West Indies were still very sore subjects, but they hadn’t tip-toed around them. Bucky knew Steve didn’t want to fall back into old habits and Steve knew Bucky had to get back to running the business that had been sorely neglected in his absence. Playtime was well and truly over, and pretty soon, choices would need to be made that would impact them both.

“We don’t have to figure it all out right away.”

“You know that’s not true. They’re going to expect--”

“The decision isn’t theirs to make,” Bucky interjected bluntly. “And the seat will remain vacant until you say you want it back or you tell me to fill it.”

“And you think they’ll just accept that?” Steve countered.

“They’ll do what I fucking tell them to do.”

An unwavering declaration and an absolute unwillingness to bend – a terse retort that was both the long and the short of it. Bucky had essentially issued a blank check with no void date, and in the event of a battle, he’d be colonel, cavalry, and cannon fodder. A Boss always shouldered the brunt of the weight, and until Steve decided he wanted to carry a share of it, a debate was pointless.

He let Bucky know that he preferred to return to New York the following day, and once the itinerary was finalized, Bucky declared he reeked of hospital chemicals, and wanted to take a shower. After so many weeks of being a de-facto caretaker, Steve followed on reflex. He entered Bucky’s bedroom on autopilot, headed straight for the bathroom, gathered towels, turned on the water, and put down the bathmat.

Like an old-school English valet, Steve undressed Bucky with impartiality that had been easy to maintain because of the discomfort it caused and the need to be mindful of the wounds. Shoes, socks, jacket, tie, belt, pants, and shirt – practice had made the process efficient, but when Bucky dropped his boxers without warning, and invited him to join him in the shower, the detachment Steve had sensibly developed nearly evaporated.

“Please,” Bucky insisted.  

Steve could’ve ignored the entreaty had he not met Bucky’s eyes and saw it wasn’t sex he was after this time. A blatant, vulnerable expression had bled across his features, and the emotion was too real and raw to put words to. Steve knew just by the set of Bucky’s jaw and the way he held his breath that he didn’t want to be coddled or nursed anymore.

Getting undressed and beneath the spray had been the easy part. The dimness of the heat lamp; the steam within the glass enclosure; the complexity of intimacy; and the simplicity of a familiar and welcomed touch – it was a different kind of nakedness and it exposed them both.  

French, triple-milled soap rinsed down the drain and the Egyptian cotton bath sheets were forgotten on the floor at the foot of the bed. They settled into the double king-sized mattress, beneath a down comforter, and atop of too many damn pillows. Bucky rested on his side, back pressed to his chest, and Steve couldn’t stop himself from placing a protective hand over the still-healing injuries.

Bucky’s contented sigh was what Steve fell asleep to, and when he woke several hours later, darkness had fallen, but the room was subtly glowing. The glimmering light from the Eiffel Tower had created sparkled patterns over the ceiling, walls, and bed, but the splendor wasn’t what held his attention.

Blankets kicked off, flat on his stomach, and face buried in a pillow – a repose that was wholly innocent and utterly tempting. The rich scent of Bucky’s soft skin, the warmth of his body, and the reassuring sound of his every inhale and exhale -- he was painfully stunning and completely captivating, and even without asking, Steve could sense he’d also been wakened by the light show.

“Does this happen every night?” Bucky muttered.

Steve made a noise in the affirmative and Bucky let out a huff of annoyance. Bare skin cradled by golden light flexed and moved across the sheets, and he listened and observed as Bucky stretched and groaned beside him. Dark, unkempt hair gave way to a furrowed brow and sleepy eyes, but Steve’s amorous perusal was brought to an end when he abruptly rolled away, grabbed the blanket, and covered himself from shoulders to toes.

Though they were mere inches apart, Bucky’s actions had put a discernable, unspoken distance between them. He’d hidden both his expression and his body, and when the lights of the Tower finally stopped glittering, the room dimmed considerably, and the tension turned palpable.

“I want you,” Steve rasped into the darkness.

“Do you?”

There was no trace of brashness in his voice; if anything, he brooded, as if he were unsure whether or not the passion Steve had for him had somehow lessened. Their journey had left them both shaken and broken, but the one thing Steve knew for sure was that his desire for Bucky had never been lost along the way. He responded to the question not with words, but with deliberate action, and started by pushing the covers down and out of the way.  

Steve roved his palms and tongue purposefully and hungrily from the crook of Bucky’s neck to the base of his spine. When Steve rolled him onto his back, he repeated the process, and reclaimed Bucky’s body. Steve buried his teeth into his abs, coaxed bruises from the flesh of his hipbones, and used his hands and mouth until he beckoned gut-wrenched pleas of mercy that prompted Steve to release him long enough to issue a guttural demand.

“Come for me, Buck,” he ordered lowly. “Come for me right now.”

Bucky’s surrender and his orgasm hadn’t just been a physical release; it seemed to free him from whatever doubts he may have had and revived his confidence. He basked in the afterglow for a few minutes before he got up, rushed to the bathroom, and returned with a bottle of lube and a handful of condoms.

Both were tossed down in the middle of the mattress, and Steve’s heart raced when Bucky crawled back into bed, and kissed him until his brain shorted out. The force and intensity of it sent him falling back against the pillows, and he couldn’t help but moan as Bucky sucked hard on his tongue and stroked his erection from base to tip.

“Nobody else is allowed to have you,” Bucky panted as he issued a sharp bite to his lower lip. “And I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you or take you from me.”  

The possessive assertion was punctuated with a particularly tight squeeze, and the highhandedness continued with hot, open-mouthed licks and nips that blazed a path down his chin, to the base of his throat, and across his chest.

Steve was completely lost in the officious tenor of Bucky’s voice and caress, and by the time he opened the lube and really started working him over, Steve was painfully hard, and hanging on by a thread. Bucky continued to take his time, used his fingers with pitiless and relentless accuracy, and didn’t roll on a condom until he was wrecked and had all but blathered and begged for it.

Situated on his knees, Bucky nudged his thighs wide apart, and guided himself inside until he was seated deep. Bucky intertwined their hands and pinned Steve’s arms above his head. Chest-to-chest; eyes locked and focused; an unhurried rock and roll of hips; heady, potent kisses that left them both breathless and a little dizzy. Steve hovered with Bucky over the precipice -- desperate, unafraid, and more than ready and willing to fall -- and when he did, Bucky fell right along with him.  

“I love you,” Bucky whispered against the shell of his ear.

Steve closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath, “I love you, too.”

Translations: Tu retournes chercher ton cœur – You’re going back for your heart.

Epilogue: The Bosses

Everything: @jennmurawski13​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth​ The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @lilliannaansalla

[glowinggator]

Hi! I'm 14 years old straight (I think) girl! I have wavy black hair and black eyes, I wear glasses and I'm 5’6. I really like drawing and I'm aspiring to be a writer in the future! I can come off really meek and Awkward at first but later on I open up Abit and can come off Abit goofy sometimes. I like dresses and I think I'm pretty feminine with the way dress, all pink and try to make it cute. I always try to be there for my friends and I in courage anyone I care about to speak to me about their problems as I can and will lend an ear if they needs it, and I always comfort them with the best I can do. I have trouble standing up for myself as I have many insecurities. I have A really thick accent that can sometimes be hard to understand as English isn't my first language. I try to avoid conflicts at all causes because I hate feeling like the people I care about are mad at me, and I be the first one to apologise if things got out of hand. (Hope this is enough, And Thank you! ^^)

I match you with...

Michelangelo!!  The awkwardness doesn’t put him off at all when you guys first meet: in fact, he thinks it’s kind of cute! He definitely puts in a lot of effort in bringing you out of your shell (pun 100% intended askjfsk), and gosh, he melts when you do. he thought you were gorgeous from the very beginning, but your personality really made him fall for you <3  He loves your caring and sweet nature, and he’s always here to stand up for you! You might shy away from confrontation, but just know that he’ll always be by your side!  He loves to read what you write! If he really loves a concept that you have, you can bet that he’ll be drawing it later. It’s really incredible. You can tell that he put a lot of effort into drawing it exactly like you wrote it. Comics, concepts, anything! He also really likes to see your art. He’s a firm believer that art is the purest form of expression, so seeing your art is kind of like seeing a part of your soul! Plus, he really likes your style.  He’s a great ear if you ever wanna talk about your issues, too. He knows that you put yourself out there a lot for your friends, so he works hard to make sure you have that same luxury! In the same branch of talking, tt’s really easy to talk with him, no matter what the medium is. He loves to stay up on the phone at night, but it’s even better when you two are together! Late night movie sessions are plentiful, and almost always end in incoherent giggling. If you still know what you’re laughing about, it isn’t late enough.  Loves how cute your style is!! He loves to play with your hair and braid it. His braids are super complex, so honestly, you don’t even want to take them out! He also loves to paint your nails. Not only does he get to hold your hands, but he also gets to flex his artistic skills. It’s a win-win! Your hands fit perfectly together, it’s wonderful.  Speaking of, he loves to hold your hand. It’s a small gesture, but a sweet one. Something about it just makes his heart flutter. Every now and then he’ll squeeze your hand back, like a reminder that he’s right at your side, and you’d be lying if you didn’t feel that same feeling in your heart.  He’s a huge fan of hugs, too. Expect a hug whenever you enter the lair! His hugs are comforting, kind of like being wrapped in a blanket on a winter day. It also helps that he’s so strong. You feel the safest when he’s holding you like that. Of course, he always parts by doing something silly. Either way, you can’t help but smile!  He also draws little hearts and stars on the temples of your glasses. They wash off, though, so there’s no worry about them getting ruined. (You might find little marker stains on your actual temples, though.)  He’s a huge fan of picnic dates. Whether it’s at midnight in New York, or somewhere in the Hidden City, it’s always a fun time. He makes really good food, and it’s something different every time. He also brings a couple of other things, like paper & watercolor. It’s a roulette wheel of what the activity for the day will be, honestly.  Hope you’re fine with sharpie, because he loves to draw on you!! Pink and blue doodles litter the back of your hands, often taking the form of rabbits or cats. (He also doodles a little green turtle on the back of your left thumb, every time and without fail.) He loves to make you laugh!! He thinks your laugh is really cute, and he’ll do the stupidest stuff to make you giggle. 

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

To Live For, To Die For (Bucky X Reader)

This is the second one I picked for Sea’s 2k milestone XD Gotta say...not nearly as sweet to write this one as it was the other. But I hope you guys like it!

Song: Somebody to Die For

Sequel is up: “Just Like This”

@geosaurusrrex​ - official congrats on hitting 2k man XD

P.S. There is a reason your last name is “Potts”. 

I could drag you from the ocean I could pull you from the fire And when you’re standing in the shadows I could open up the sky And I could give you my devotion Until the end of time And you will never be forgotten With me by your side

The two of them fit. 

It was odd, like nothing any of the Avengers had ever seen before. Bucky had spent so much time living to kill, he forgot what it was like - what it meant to simply live. Then he met her. The mutant friend of T’Challa’s wife, Orroro. Shuri told him bits of her history, but refused anymore, forcing him to ask the young woman himself. 

“Hey Sarge,” this new woman teased, beaming smile and amused gleam forcing a rose blush on his cheeks.

“Call me Bucky.”

He remembered the way she looked at him, as if seeing through every hardship he’d ever endured and then some. She tilted her head, an emotion he couldn’t place mixing with that clear amusement. Rather than arguing, Y/N merely nodded. “Okay, if that’s what you want,” she smiled. “Bucky.”

The woman had brought him back from the edge in a way Steve couldn’t. Steve kept pressuring him, asking for the friend he once had. No, the words never actually left his lips. Steve wasn’t that kind of guy. But she never expected James Buchanan Barnes or the Winter Soldier. She merely asked for Bucky. All the woman asked for was the ability to understand. And in being so simple, so innocent and kind, she managed to do something no one else could.

Y/N Potts taught him to live for something. 

And now they had spent every waking moment together, tending to his goats, helping him with his memories. She was still an enigma to him, something he felt he would never fully understand. But that was okay. He could wait for her.

And I don’t need this life I just need...

Y/N hadn’t expected Bucky to weasel her way into her heart. He wasn’t supposed to. She had only meant to visit Orroro, to update her on the mutants back home, and be done with it. Then she’d be going to New York to visit her sister and that weird genius she continued to date. But there was something about the man that she couldn’t get out of her head. T’Challa said it was normal, that Bucky had that reputation back in the day. Shuri immediately shut him up, reminding him that Bucky was a different person. He wasn’t James Barnes or the Winter Soldier anymore.

And it left her wondering - who was left in their wake?

He was so kind and gentle. Quiet and withdrawn, as if he deserved to live a life in misery. Y/N had never fallen for someone so good. He didn’t see it. All he saw was the blood on his hands. Even so, she saw past it and to the man within. It wasn’t someone for him to become, no, that standard wasn’t something she could hold him to.

But she could help him find who he was - the man past the guilt and regret and shame. 

Back home, Y/N was a teacher. She taught mutants of all ages and had a family to love and care for within those youthful faces that had been cast out. She knew what it was like to live for something, for someone.

It wasn’t until Bucky that she learned what it was like to have that person. The "somebody” that Logan had warned her about all those years ago.

Somebody to die for.

I’ve got nothing left to live for Got no reason yet to die But when I’m standing in the gallows I’ll be staring at the sky Because no matter where they take me Death I will survive And I will never be forgotten With you by my side

“You’re my person.”

Bucky looked down at her, raising an eyebrow. The clear confusion was evident in those bright baby blues of his, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain the meaning behind her words. When he realized she wouldn’t explain, he stroked her forehead, where skin met hair, and whispered, “What does that mean?”

She smiled, squeezing his hand before placing a gentle kiss against his knuckles.  No, she didn’t need to tell him. Not yet. “You’ll figure it out, Buck.”

“Wait, why won’t you --”

The sound of footsteps outside caught both their attention. They shared a look before Y/N lifted her head off Bucky’s lap. No one bothered him out here. It was almost an unspoken rule that his only visitors be Y/N and Shuri.

So what was going on?

Bucky stood, keeping Y/N behind him as they walked out of the hut. Outside stood King T’Challa, Queen Orroro, and Princess Shuri. So many royals, so many guards, and a case that neither had seen before. Still, they didn’t need to know its contents. Bucky knew. He always knew.

Walking forward, he kept Y/N close. She calmed him in a way no one else could. As he approached, T’Challa opened the case and revealed a brand new vibranium arm.

Y/N couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. Instead, she placed a calming hand on his back, lighting tracing the old scars through the course fabric. She didn’t need to look at Bucky to know what he wanted to ask.

“Where’s the fight?” His rough voice held back fear and a bitterness Y/N hadn’t heard before. She hadn’t seen Bucky as a soldier, but she was scared. What would become of her Bucky if he went back to that life?

“On its way,” T’Challa explained before looking to Y/N. “We’ll need both of you.”

She looked up, meeting his gaze. “I don’t answer to you, T’Challa.”

“Y/N. Please.” Y/N shifted her gaze to Orroro. The woman that had helped her when she had first sought help from the X-men. She owed the weather witch everything. 

And knowing that, she nodded.

“Is Steve Rogers on his way,” Y/N asked, knowing Bucky would want to see his old friend.

Orroro nodded. “Him and more of his team.” 

Y/N didn’t see the way Bucky looked at her. She didn’t see the pain in his eyes or the fear he hid behind a clenched jaw and tense shoulders. No, instead Bucky hid those feelings away as she turned to look at him. She couldn’t see him worry about losing her. 

He was her person. Whatever that meant, he had to be strong. For her.

Cause I don’t need this life I just need...

Bucky had never seen Y/N’s powers in action. He’d heard stories, sure, seen her scars like she’d seen his, but this was different.

She was beautiful. She fought like it was a work of art.

Y/N had the power to manipulate water. She could turn it into a solid, liquid, or gas and manipulate its purpose even further.

How had he never seen this before?

Y/N used the water to lift her in the air, keeping close to the river that ran through Wakanda. She froze it, sliding around as if she were creating her own roller coaster. Slicing the water through the air, she decapitated aliens left and right as Bucky ran others down with bullets. Their abilities weren’t suitable for working alongside. One stray bullet, one alien falling at the wrong angle, and she’d fall into the mess.

 But still.

She was something else.

However, both stopped and shared a look when they heard Bruce over the comms. “Guys! Guys, Vision needs backup now!”

Bucky opened his mouth to say he was on the way, but Y/N beat him to it. “I’m on it.”

She took off on the ice, knowing she was best to go. She heard the water in the background. Wherever Bruce and Vision were - a waterfall was nearby. Y/N could at least buy them some time until Steve or Wanda got there.

Somebody to die for Somebody to cry for When I’m lonely

The trees were difficult to maneuver around on ice. Y/N knew she needed to save what water she had access to if she was going to get to the falls. She dropped to the ground, ducking and weaving around the massive trunks until she heard the familiar sound of crunching metal.

She screeched to a stop as saw the scene taking place just over the ledge. Bruce was struggling against one of Thanos’s henchmen, a bigger brute. “Bruce?” she called before hearing a cry from behind her. 

Y/N spun fast, the water from the falls moving in front of her and catching the weapon in a squishy sort of a shield. She looked up, eyes wide as she came face to face with another one of the aliens. It was tall and slim, scales covering its body with long pointed ears that reached high towards the sky. A massive tail flicked behind its back. Which alien was this? Y/N didn’t care. She didn’t need to know.

“You’ll die,” the alien promised, its voice a low hiss. If it weren’t for the promise, she would have believed the voice was almost soothing.

“Not right now,” Y/N muttered, flipping the blade with a jerk of the water. The alien spun in the air, landing with a thud. Immediately they jumped up, growling at her  and sweeping the large weapon low to the ground. 

The two circled each other, studying the opposite for weaknesses, for a break. “I saw your little human with the metal arm,” it hissed, tilting its head as Y/N’s shoulders tensed. She flexed her fingers, the water around her spinning faster. “His head is cloudy. Lost, isn’t he?” The alien cackled as Y/N clenched her jaw. “I’ll make him my pet, share the memory of your death with him over and over until his mind is nothing but sludge.”

Y/N knew there were some aliens with abilities similar to mutants. But telepathy? “Let’s not make this personal.”

“Death always is.” The alien grinned, fanged teeth forming a perfect row that sent a shudder down Y/N’s spine. 

Y/N refused to let this...thing get the better of her. It leapt in the air, raising its weapon as if ready to strike before Y/N could move.

But Y/N? She was a mutant. 

She was an X-man. 

She knew how to fight.

With a flick of her wrist, the water lashed forward. It froze in midair, just in time for the ice pick to pierce through the alien’s temple. Y/N sidestepped, looking away as the alien fell to the ground and slid past her. She always hated the sight of death. Grimacing, Y/N walked away from the body and searched through the trees for any sign of Vision. 

“Vis!” 

The sound of Wanda’s blood curdling cry made Y/N stop dead in her tracks. The sound was heart wrenching. It made Y/N feel more sick than any number of dead bodies or any amount of food. She had to get to Wanda. She took off, running as fast as her legs could carry her.

Leaping over a massive root, Y/N landed in a crouch and her eyes widened when she saw Vision’s body on the ground. Thanos was here.

When I’m standing in the fire I will look him in the eye And I will let the devil know that I was brave enough to die And there’s no hell that he can show me That’s deeper than my pride Cause I will never be forgotten Forever I’ll fight

Y/N heard voices behind her. She turned and saw Steve face to face with Thanos. Her stomach clenched. Bucky couldn’t lose Steve. He couldn’t.

Steve grunted, teeth clenched as he tried to keep Thanos from snapping his fingers. Thanos grimaced, looking at the soldier as if he was nothing more than an insect. Pushing down, he amused himself with Steve’s struggle. This Captain America...so small. So...

Weak.

Thanos threw his arm with a force stronger than his best henchman. He sent Steve flying through trees and landing with a loud thud. Y/N stepped forward, the snap of a branch signaling her arrival to Thanos. Everyone had one goal.

Don’t let him snap his fingers.

She swept her arms, the water she had constantly running around her now rushing forward and freezing around his hand. He kept clenching his fist, flexing around the ice and cracking it. Layer after layer of frozen water appeared. Y/N repeated the process over and over, circling Thanos as he eyed her. He was studying her, she knew it. He was waiting till she ran out. 

However, the sight of the clouds rolling reminded her of one particular weather witch on her side. Slowly, rain started pouring from the sky. She used the droplets to form needles. Thanos rolled his eyes. The needles were merely an annoyance.

“Enough of this.” 

Thanos clenched his fist, shattering the ice once more. He went to snap his fingers, stopped when a fist of ice hit his palm. He clenched the gauntlet around the fist, eyes slowly traveling down the arm to the mutant before him. There was fear in her eyes, he could see it. But with that, a resilience, a determination similar to that he’d seen in Gamora. 

The titan had studied many faces of the Avengers. He learned of them, wanted understand their strengths and weaknesses. She was not an Avenger. 

Who was she?

He clenched his fist ever so slightly, letting the ice crack, but not shatter. This was a game. 

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N Potts.”

He cracked. She saw past that passive facade and saw genuine surprise in those piercing eyes. He’d heard of her.

“A mutant.”

“Clearly.”

“The sister of Tony Stark’s redemption.”

Thanos raised her fist, lifting her in the air. She had yet to see him kill anyone other than Vision. With Vision there was a purpose, a reason. Thanos only killed when there was a reason.

She’d get back to Bucky.

And I don’t need this life I just need Somebody to die for Somebody to cry for I just need...

“Humans. You always think you know best. That you’re better than a universe you have yet to even comprehend.” 

Thanos shattered the fist, his hand clenching around her much smaller one. She cried out as she felt her bones shatter underneath his strength. Flipping her free hand, the rain formed into rushing water. A spear found its way to her hand up to her elbow, ready to swipe at his head. Thanos smirked, grabbing her upper arm and twisting to the point where it was just about to break.

“Ungh -” She clenched her jaw, seeing Steve stand out of her peripheral. She glanced his way only for a moment, the faintest smile curling her lips. Steve wasn’t dead. Bucky would be happy.

“Y/N.” Steve muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t hear it.

“Do you kill for the hell of it?” Y/N’s voice came out trembling, tears from the pain slipping down her cheeks. “Step on anything that crosses your path?” She needed to reason with him, to remind Thanos that he didn’t kill for the hell of it.

 She had to try to live for Bucky.

“No, I don’t kill for the hell of it,” Thanos answered. Swinging her feet, she pressed them against his chest in an attempt to get away. He jerked her arm, the twist causing a shriek to tear from her throat. Her feet slipped. Y/N hung in the air as if she were nothing more than a rag doll. “I only kill the weak.”

Y/N moved to say more, but the words died on her lips when she saw a familiar face running up behind Steve. More tears streamed down her cheeks when she saw those piercing blue eyes, that brow furrowed in confusion. 

Bucky.

“Y/N.” He said her name. She knew he did, but his voice was so low, she didn’t hear it. She saw his mouth move, saw his lips form her name, and her heart sped up. Her stomach erupted in butterflies. 

Even with Thanos ready to kill her, she still had butterflies.

Steve held Bucky back. At the moment, Y/N was distracting Thanos. She was alive and keeping him from snapping his fingers. It was buying Thor time. Any sort of distraction and Thanos could and would kill her. Her injuries could be fixed. She could heal. “Buck,” he whispered, voice cracking as he stared at his friend. “Buck, she’s going to be okay. She’s going to live, I promise.” But Bucky wasn’t looking at Steve.

He was looking at Y/N.

“Please,” he whispered, voice cracking.

“Is that him?” Y/N looked back to Thanos, brow furrowing in confusion. Her nose was runny from crying, her eyes red and puffy. She was in more pain than she had ever been. Normally the fights with the X-men went in her favor. It seemed the Avengers didn’t have their luck.

“What?” she asked, voice trembling.

Thanos watched, pity in his eyes. “The man you’d live for. Your redemption.”

“No. No, I wouldn’t live for him.”

Thanos furrowed his brow, confused.

“But he’s the man I’d die for.”

Thanos nodded, allowing himself to respect that. “I won’t kill you.”

Y/N smirked. “Thanks, but I can’t promise the same to you.”

Ice picks formed at her toes and she kicked up. Her foot connected with the underside of his arm, the one that held the gauntlet. He grunted as she twisted her body. The ice pick tore away from her foot, remaining lodged inside his arm. Thanos dropped her and she landed on her shattered arm. Bone piercing through her skin, she felt something tear through her side. 

The smell of blood made her want to throw up.

And I don’t need this life I just need... Somebody to die for Somebody to cry for When I’m lonely

Steve and Bucky took off. Thanos had been playing with Y/N, enjoying someone trying so hard. Now he had all the Infinity Stones. It wasn’t a game. Bucky started shooting at Thanos as a distraction for Steve. He slid in, grabbing Thanos’s hand and keeping his fingers pried apart. He shook, body trembling once again as he used his strength against the titan. While Y/N could distract him with words, with fascinating powers and tear filled eyes, they didn’t have that luxury. 

Bucky’s mind wasn’t on Thanos or the people. It was on Y/N. He slid to her side. The arm Thanos had twisted, cracked. The bone had pierced the flesh and dug into her ribcage. He wasn’t sure what was pierced, but judging by her pale complexion, her barely open eyes, Bucky felt his heart clench and contort with an onslaught of fear.

“Y-Y/N,” he whispered, brushing her hair back. “Y/N, stay with me. S-Stay, you gotta stay with me, doll.”

“Bucky -” Steve grunted, forcing himself to stand and push Thanos back. He only got two steps in.

“No,” Bucky growled, his voice low and rough. Thanos said he wouldn’t kill her. He said that, he practically promised it. So why - He cupped her clammy cheek in his flesh hand, stroking her temple. “Y/N, can you hear me?”

She seemed to be looked just past him, her eyes searching for something. Y/N’s lips murmured his name, so low he couldn’t even hear it. She was searching for him. “Y/N,” he whispered, lip quivering as a tear slipped down his cheek. It disappeared in his bear. “Y/N, I’m here. I’m right here.”

Bucky didn’t hear the fight going on behind him. He didn’t hear Thor’s lightning crackling through the sky. All he could hear, all he could see, was her.

“Y/N, please,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. His tears slipped from his cheeks, falling onto hers. Her breathing was shallow, faint. “Please, we can get Shuri. Come on, doll. You can do this. She - She can...Please, Y/N. Don’t leave me.”

Faintly, he heard Thor’s voice say, “I told you...you’d die for that.”

Bucky ignored whatever was going on behind him. Instead, he listened to her breathing. His hand slipped around her back and he cradled her against his chest, soft sobs making his shoulders tremble. “Please,” he whispered, “You’re my person.”

“What did you do!?” Thor’s angered shout broke through Bucky’s pain. He looked down at Y/N, her breathing still...so shallow, so close to something he couldn’t bring her back from. “I’ll be back. I’m going to find Shuri,” he promised, standing up. He looked back, his gaze landing on Thor and Thanos through the tree line. Bucky clenched his jaw, searching through the trees.

He didn’t have time.

“Shuri!” His voice was loud, booming as he tried to find the brilliant princess. She could save Y/N. No matter how many bones were broken or how much blood was lost. Shuri could help her. “Shuri!”

But then he felt...off.

He looked down at his fingers, watching them blow away and turn to dust.

“Bucky?”

Bucky looked up, his gaze landing on Steve. But Y/N. She - “Steve?”

He stepped forward, collapsing to his knees as Steve ran towards him. He watched his oldest friend swoop in and try to catch, but it was too late.

They were too late.

Don’t go gentle into that good night Rage on against the dying light

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian - A Dalton Boy Slowing Things Down (Rated NC17)

Summary: After Kurt's Christmas party, after Sebastian drops, he has a difficult time drifting off to a peaceful sleep. So Kurt opts to wake him up and share a peaceful morning. (1710 words)

Notes: Okay, so this actually sends us back to right after the Christmas tree incident. This was a vignette I wrote for right after 'A Dalton Boy Learns the Truth' but it got corrupted on another computer. I managed to recover it an finish it so, yeah. Here you are. It's one of the softer love scenes in the series.

Read on AO3.

Sebastian eventually settles into a cozy, happy place lying beside Kurt in bed – that floaty, blurry-edged, cloud-like space that usually follows a particularly strenuous scene. But unlike other times, Sebastian finds it difficult to fend off stressful dreams. According to what he hears Kurt murmur in his ear the times he startles himself awake, Sebastian dropped pretty hard, pretty fast. Every thought that fills his mind after he finally drifts off to a solid sleep is steeped in melancholy and ‘sad’, even over things he’d once been excited about.

Things he’d been looking forward to.

He’d never before seen graduating high school and leaving Westerville as an ending. Even though he isn’t entirely grounded in what he wants to do with the rest of his life, he saw it as a beginning. Even if he doesn’t leap straight into college, the possibilities are endless. He recognizes that he has a certain amount of privilege, and he loves it. He’s one lucky fuck. He could travel the world, volunteer overseas, go to a trade school and slum it learning something mundane like refrigerator repair or aluminum siding installation.

His dad would probably hate that. He wouldn’t say it outright, but he’d allude to it in every conversation they’d have. His dad isn’t an asshole where class systems are concerned. He owns enough properties that he respects blue collar workers, appreciates the services they provide.

He’s just never pictured his son becoming one.

His father can’t really complain if he does. Trade work is a good living. And seeing where the economy is headed, it might even be better in the long run than getting a degree in business. Every day Sebastian reads articles claiming trade school’s where it’s at for his generation.

Besides, he could see Kurt digging it.

His dad’s a mechanic. Sebastian has heard them talk shop over the phone, watched him give Elliott’s bike a once over when he complained it was making a funny noise. It was hotter than hell watching Kurt get his hands dirty changing the oil in his Navigator.

Maybe watching Sebastian get his own hands dirty would have the same effect on Kurt.

Sebastian could go to New York and try his luck on the Broadway stage, or Hollywood and try to break into network television. If he gets off his ass tomorrow and starts a YouTube channel, he could land himself a role on a CW television show. That happens a lot, doesn’t it? To people with a lot less talent than him? His parents might not be over-the-moon about that idea either, but it’s his life. They keep saying so. How he lives it is up to him.

Which is obvious when he considers his current circumstances.

At the start of his senior year, there wasn’t a single thing keeping him tethered to Westerville. He’d come back to visit his parents, of course, but once he graduated Dalton, he’d have no unfinished business in Ohio. He could close this chapter of his life, consider it over and done.

All that changed the night he showed up at Pavarotti’s Prison.

The night he became Kurt’s pet.

Now when he graduates, he’ll be leaving something extraordinary behind - Kurt Hummel, and the claim he’s staked on Sebastian’s heart.

And even though that thought has begun to pull him apart, it’s also caused ideas to form. He may not know what he wants to do, but he knows where he wants to be, and why.

And oddly, he feels like that’s giving him direction.

Warmth on his chest starts pulling him awake. Centered between his pecs and over his heart, a pressure has begun to grow, accompanied by a comforting sensation he can’t put his finger on. In this half-dream state, he knows where he is, who he’s with. He knows he’s with Kurt, cuddled against him, cradled in his arms. But the more aware he becomes of his surroundings, he realizes they’ve flipped positions.

Kurt’s head is on Sebastian’s chest instead of the other way around.

Normally when Kurt wakes Sebastian, it’s with rough sex - Sebastian tied and gagged, being ridden hard like a dildo.

For hours sometimes.

Kurt can never seem to get enough.

But this time, when Sebastian starts to wake, it’s to barely there kisses on his neck and the tiniest licks around the hollow of his throat.

“Are you okay, preppy?” Kurt whispers against his sub’s skin when he hears his breathing change, feels him waking up. “After last night?”

“I think so, Master,” Sebastian says, wincing at his own gravelly voice.

“Is this alright?” Kurt asks to Sebastian’s surprise because Kurt never asks. He takes. That’s rule number one – in Kurt’s house, everything belongs to him, and he takes without asking. But here he was, asking if Sebastian is okay.

Asking Sebastian if he wants this.

If he can handle it.

If he’s willing to try.

“Yes, Master,” Sebastian says. “It’s alright.”

“Good. Because I need you inside me,” Kurt decides, fiddling with his hands where Sebastian can’t see, then moving him around, turning him on his side and positioning his sub behind him. A bottle lid pops, something rips, cold and wet covers Sebastian’s cock applied by soft, strong hands. “You don’t even have to wake up if you don’t want to.”

Sebastian chuckles, but those chuckles turn to moans when hot and tight starts inching its way down his erection. “H-how strong do you think I am, Master?”

“Pretty fucking strong. Here …” Kurt puts his hand on Sebastian’s hip and rocks him back and forth ever so slightly, “just like that. D-don’t go any faster than that.”

“Yes, Master,” Sebastian mumbles into Kurt’s shoulder, gnawing gently the way Kurt showed him. Kurt sinks into him, and Sebastian can’t remember having sex in a more intimate way than this with anyone.

He follows Kurt’s orders, sliding slowly back and forth, a hint of thrust that puts the head of his cock right where Kurt wants him and keeps him there. It takes control to stay this way, to not flip Kurt onto his stomach and pound him into the mattress, which is something that he, luckily, enjoys.

But no.

Not this time.

Kurt wants slowly.

So Sebastian will give him slowly.

It’s relaxing having sex this way. He can see himself lasting forever at this speed and in this position. How wonderful would that be? Rolling into Kurt’s body for the rest of the morning, on and on until the afternoon. The phone would ring, people would stop by, knock on the window, bark at him to let them in. But they’d ignore the world and all their problems and fuck the day away.

Kurt’s nails bite into Sebastian’s hips and he starts to speed up. He doesn’t do it consciously. Kurt is just so sexy, and he feels so good around him, Sebastian can’t help himself. It creeps up on him, Kurt’s body coaxing him with the subtle flexing of his muscles, breathy gasps from his lips, and his smell - everything he’s put on his skin or in his body in the past few hours - a lethal combination of cloves, cologne, whiskey, lubricant, and soap. For a moment, Kurt is on that same page with him, chanting, “Yes, yes, yes …” as he tugs Sebastian forward, urges him on. But like a locomotive overshooting its stop, he slams on the brakes.

“No! No no …” Kurt slides down Sebastian’s cock till his ass meets his sub’s groin and stops him. “You’re not cumming. Not yet. And neither am I. Take a breath. A deep breath ... not yet …” he continues sotto voce “… it can’t … just … not yet ...”

“Alright,” Sebastian pants. “I understand … Master …”

Kurt nods, bringing Sebastian’s hand to his lips and kissing his fingers, counting against his skin as he tries to settle his orgasm down.

“O-okay.” Kurt scoots forward, nudging Sebastian’s hips toward him. “Keep going.”

Sebastian’s hands move as his hips moves. He can’t stop them, and Kurt doesn’t say no. He grabs Kurt’s hip, holds on tight, but it’s not enough. He wraps his arms around him – one around his waist, one around his torso, and hugs. Flush against each other with only his hips parting from his body in brief, steady intervals, it’s almost close enough.

“Oh …” Kurt moans, “oh, preppy … oh God …”

Sebastian wraps a hand around Kurt’s cock and holds him, surrenders to letting his Master use him to work his way to an orgasm. Outside Kurt’s bedroom window with one shutter open, snow begins to fall. It piles up on the sills, sticks to the glass, catching moonlight from outside and twinkling like stars. It’s a magical sight, but less so than the man in Sebastian’s arms.

The warmth from before, the one in his chest, becomes lava hot. It cascades through his body. He has no control over it, and that’s the best part. Being with Kurt, he rarely has control. Kurt owns the control. Kurt decides when Sebastian cums, if Sebastian cums, and how. It’s torture and release, the not knowing along with the not needing to decide. But that’s where trust comes into the equation.

And Sebastian trusts Kurt to take care of him - in every way possible.

The heat rushes through his body the same time a similar heat spills over his hand. A shuddering Kurt turns his head and captures Sebastian’s mouth. Kissing Sebastian is Kurt’s favorite way to ride out an orgasm. This position requires Sebastian to strain his abs, prop himself awkwardly onto one elbow and contort so that Kurt can kiss him comfortably for as long as he pleases.

But Sebastian would stay this way forever if it meant Kurt would be thoroughly satisfied.

“Okay,” Kurt whispers. “Okay … okay … oh God …” He snuggles back against Sebastian’s chest, grabs his arms and wraps them around himself. And to Sebastian, there isn’t a better feeling in the world. “We have to do that about a hundred more times before you leave for your folks’.”

Sebastian runs his cheek against Kurt’s hair, keeping deeper thoughts to himself. “I’m game if you are.”

[twokinkybeans]

Jar Or Dirt Chapter 8: Bottle Of Vodka [Starker Fanfiction NSFW/18+]

Kink/Sexual Warnings: None (No sex in this chapter) Other Warnings: Peter gets very drunk and assaulted (kissing only), angsty feelings, emotions. 

All Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10 ... Masterpost (More to come!)

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Chapter 8: Bottle Of Vodka Peter isn’t entirely sure he’s back in this world after the mindblowing and extraordinary high he experienced this morning. His body feels so heavy, his mind extremely slow. He’s in the kitchen, waiting for Tony to follow him out of the shower so they can eat lunch together. He’s slowly tapping his fingers on the countertop - and frowns. Huh? He lifts his hands up, turning them around and staring at his fingers. They feel almost numb. Not tingling like they usually do. It’s almost as if they’re turned off? He takes a deep, shaky breath, flexing his fingers a few times.

Now that he’s starting to pay attention, he notices how eerily quiet it is around him. Where he would hear the wind hit the high rise, there’s nothing now. However, when Peter looks through the windows he sees the swift-moving clouds. He blinks a few times, looking over the New York City skyline. The colors are flat, all contrast dulled to grey shades. He feels empty, no longer feeling his heart pumping his blood through his veins. He’s cold. He’s never cold. The record player doesn’t scratch his ears. There’s no low hum he has to actively cancel out. It’s weird. It’s… Ordinary. He hasn’t felt this way since…

“Hey kid, watcha up to?” “AH!” Peter jolts and turns to find Tony right behind him. Startled, he scrambles and trips over his own feet, landing on his butt with a loud groan. He pants heavily. “Whoa, there!” Tony looks at Peter worried and moves to help him up. Peter takes his hand and feels the tears sting in his eyes when he doesn’t feel Tony’s heartbeat either. “Are you okay?” “I didn’t-” “Didn’t?” “Sense you. I didn’t sense you,” Peter chokes out. “I didn’t know you were behind me.” Tony frowns at Peter. This boy has an unreal accuracy when it comes to knowing where other people are around him. He should’ve sensed him walking up to him. He always does. He explained how he feels the air shift, hears Tony’s clothes ruffle as he walks. This doesn’t sound good.

"Mr. Stark-" Peter's voice is shaky. Tears well up in his eyes as he keeps looking at Tony's hands holding onto his. "-I... I think there’s something wrong with me?” The boy seems genuinely scared and Tony swallows. He bridges the gap between them to hold him close. “Pete, tell me what’s wrong. What’s going on?” “My senses… T-They’re gone? My fingers are numb, everything is silent and dull and… and…” “Alright, baby. It’s going to be alright, okay? Let’s go to the lab, so I can run some tests.” Tony says gently, scooping the boy up and carrying him to the elevator so they can go down. He doesn’t trust Peter to walk by himself right now. “O-okay…”

-

Tony sighs as he takes another sip of his wine. The penthouse feels empty without Peter around, but he’s glad he managed to encourage Peter to go to Ned’s first frat party. The boy hadn’t wanted to go at first, scared of his now ordinary senses, but at the same time, he didn’t want to bail on Ned. It was scary to see him like this, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. had assured Tony that there was nothing off with the boy, aside from a massive hormonal disbalance. Which, actually, wasn’t a disruption at all. It was the opposite. Peter’s hormones are now completely balanced out, like a normal human being. From what Tony has seen in the boy after a bad fight, his hormones have always healed naturally within a few days. Apparently, the sexual overstimulation caused his Spider senses to shut down completely as a defense mechanism, but he should stabilize within two days tops.

He’s listening to one of the records Peter got him this morning, enjoying the last few hours of his birthday. He took out the Adam Ant one; he hadn’t listened to that for years. It’s good to hear it again. God, this is the singer that definitely helped him realize he was gay. He chuckles. He’s come a long way since being the 14-year old kid he’d been back then. Oh, the memories. He figures he should spend his time a bit more productively and picks up on the NASA article he’d started on reading earlier today, his eyes gliding over the words. Soon enough, he’s interrupted by Peter’s playful ringtone. He catches himself smiling instantly and picks up. “Heya, Pete!” “Mr. Stark?”

Well, that’s definitely not Peter. There’s clearly a party going on in the background, but the music is getting softer, telling Tony that whoever this is, they’re moving away from it. "Heya... Not-Peter?" He sits upright. "Who are you? Why do you have Peter's phone?" "Mr. Stark, it's me, Ned!" Something eats at Tony. This doesn't feel right. Peter never leaves his phone for someone else to take. Not even his best friend. "Oh, hey! Everything alright?" "Well, I'm not sure," Ned says worriedly. Tony stands up from the couch. "Peter's missing." "Peter's what?!" "He left without everything! His phone, his bag- Mr. Stark, even his Spider suit is still in his backpack." "Shit." Tony rushes to the lab to see if there's anything on Peter that could be tracked. "He seemed out of it too- did anything happen?" Tony grimaces at Ned’s question. Yes, something happened. And now Tony can't help but think that this was all his fault. He brought Peter that deep into subspace. He fucked up his hormone levels. He urged Peter to go to Ned's party and have fun. This is on him.

"Ned, did he do anything out of the ordinary?" It's quiet for a second as the other young adult thinks. "I don't think so? He came in feeling a little anxious, so I gave him the vodka bottle so he could get tipsy." "You gave him an entire bottle of vodka?" "You know him, Mr. Stark. His Spider stuff makes alcohol leave his system faster. He has to drink at least half a bottle of that stuff to even get kind of tipsy." God fucking dammit. "Did you see him do it?" Tony stops in his tracks, waiting for Ned to answer. "Do what?" "Down the alcohol?" Tony swipes his hand a few times, activating F.R.I.D.A.Y. "Yeah, his face was hilarious like always, but he chugged at least eleven shots worth, probably more." "Oh my God." Tony nearly drops his phone out of his hands. F.R.I.D.A.Y. is looking up the security footage near the house Ned organized the party at. "What?" Ned asks innocently. "He's drunk, Ned." The uni student is obviously confused. "Peter doesn't get drunk." "He does today. We gotta find him."

Ned helps Tony as much as he can, asking other people if they’ve seen Peter, while Tony is looking at every single inch of the footage F.R.I.D.A.Y. is showing him. According to Ned, Peter had still been inside five minutes ago. He can’t be far. Tony should go to that party and look for Peter himself. He quickly swipes the footage to the screen on his phone and rushes downstairs to get to his cars. “Are you driving, Mr. Stark?” Ned asks when the engine starts. “Yes, I’m headed to campus. Should be there in ten.” “But isn’t it at least a-” “No questions.” Tony cuts him off. He knows damn well he’s driving too fast. “I just want to find my boyfriend.”

Eight minutes in, F.R.I.D.A.Y.S.’ voice echoes through the car. “Mr. Stark, I have signaled Peter just two blocks away from the target location. I have changed the destination in your navigation system,” “Perfect. What’s his condition?” “His motor skills are not functioning up to expectation, but his vitals seem to be fine. I am uncertain whether he is under attack or not.” Tony glances sideways at his phone, looking at an indeed very drunk Peter. There’s another kid too, trying to pull Peter in for a kiss. The boy is trying to push the other dude off him, but it doesn’t seem to be working. “Fuck,” Tony slams his hand against the side of the steering wheel, pushing the gas pedal further down to speed up even faster. “Ned, you hear me?” “Yes, Mr. Stark?” “I found Peter. I’m taking him back to the Tower, we will explain everything later.” Tony rushes out. “Thanks for calling me, could you keep an eye on his stuff? I’ll pick it up tomorrow.” “S-sure, will do, Mr. Stark.” Ned answers. Tony ends the call, feeling like a dick for doing so. Peter is his number one priority right now.

When he gets to the location that F.R.I.D.A.Y. sent him, Peter’s still there, trying to walk away from the other dude, who grabs his wrist to pull Peter back in, kissing him. His boyfriend’s just standing there, frozen in place, his eyes wide. Paralyzed, yet swaying slightly. Tony curses under his breath as he parks the car and gets out of it as fast as he can. “Hey!” He exclaims. The other dude looks up and takes a surprised step back, immediately letting go of Peter. “Y-You’re Tony Stark.” “Yes, and you, kid, are assaulting my boyfriend.” The uni student takes another few steps away from Peter, trying to scramble up a half-assed excuse. “Don’t wanna hear it. Now, get the hell out of here before I lose it.” The kid’s eyes go wide, choking out some weak apology as he runs off. Tony hurries towards Peter, cradling him in his arms. “Baby, are you okay? Come on, let’s get you home.” Tony whispers. Peter is limp in his arms and Tony can’t shake the feeling of how this is all his fault. This isn’t his Peter. He should’ve listened to him. Peter said how bad he was feeling. Tony never doubted that for one second, but he surely hadn’t realized just how bad it had been.

“Am okay,” Peter mumbles. His eyebrows curl up into a frown as he looks at Tony’s arms around him and then at the vehicle Tony is guiding him to. “Hey, wait- I don’t know what you are trying Mister, but I have a boyfriend. I don’t care how nice your car is, my- my boyfriend is even nicer.” Peter slurs, barely able to keep himself standing up. Tony frowns. “Boyfriend?” “Hmmmm,” Peter sighs, dreamily, “-yes. He’s great. Speaking of which, I… I should call him. I-I think I lost my phone. Can I use yours?”

Oh god. Peter doesn’t recognize him. Part of him wants to cry, but he can’t help the nervous laugh from bubbling up his throat. “So, who is your boyfriend, kid?” "Gah!" Peter nonchalantly waves his hand. "You probably don’t know him." "Try me." Peter steps closer and whispers. "Don’t tell anyone!" Peter pouts, and God, he’s actually kind of adorable right now. "We're VERY private." "I can keep a secret." Tony smirks and cocks his head. "Gooooood." Peter relaxes into Tony’s hold and sighs, not continuing his train of thought. "So?" Tony raises his eyebrows. "So what?" "Who's your boyfriend?" It’s cheeky, yes. Tony knows. But he can’t help but wanting to see where this is gonna go. Besides, keeping Peter awake until he’s in his bed is also the easiest on Tony’s back. As long as the boy can kind of stand and talk, the older man won’t have to actually carry him.

"Right! I was gonna tell you that. He's-” Peter pauses to think for a second. “He's, my sun!" "Oh, is he?" Tony plays along. He opens the car door and gently lowers the boy into his seat. "Yeah, he makes me feel warm and safe!" Tony leans over Peter to secure the seat belt, smelling the vodka in Peter’s breath. "But who is he?" "Mm… Stark!" Tony leans back so he can look at Peter’s face. He grins. "Tony Stark?" "Yes!" Peter looks up at him, his eyes wide in surprise. “How’d you know?” Tony shakes his head at the boy. Now that Peter actually seems to be doing fine, his nerves are settling. “Wild guess.”

The entire ride to the Tower Peter keeps gushing on how amazing Tony is, and Tony just takes it all in. He knows Peter loves him, obviously, but drunk Peter talking about him so openly, so freely, even when he thinks Tony’s not even there… It sure warms his heart a whole lot more than he’d like to admit. After all these years, he’s finally got himself a boyfriend he truly and utterly loves. Only fate would’ve known it would come in the shape of a man younger than socially acceptable for most people. At first sight, it might not make a lot of sense to people, but they’ve got so many things in common. Peter might still have that youthful innocence and enthusiasm, but he’s been through enough to know what’s important in life and what isn’t.

“Wow,” Peter says in awe when they arrive at the Tower. He eyes the high rise, angling his body in an attempt to see the top. “You sure have a big house! Mr…?” “Uh,” Tony improvises, “-call me Robert.” “Well, Mr. Robert, Sir… Can I ask you a question?” “Sure, go ahead.” “Can I stay here tonight? I… I think I’m a little drunk.” Tony nods, pressing his lips on top of each other to hold back a smile. “You sure are.” Tony guides Peter into the Tower, his hand resting on the boy’s lower back. “I-I don’t think I can find my dorm like this,” Peter chuckles. His expression turns serious for a second as he looks Tony straight in the eye. “But don’t tell Uncle Ben, he’d kill me for sure.”

Tony’s eyes widen and he stands frozen, staring at Peter. Oh God. The kid doesn’t remember… Doesn’t remember that his uncle has been dead for years. Tony knows how much it kills Peter- how much he still misses that man every single day of his life. They get into the elevator and the doors close slowly. “I mean- it’ll be a lecture about responsi-res-responsibility for sure,” Peter laughs at his own inability to say the word right and Tony shakes his head. “I just don’t wanna worry him, you know?” Peter looks at his feet. He leans on his heels and then looks back up at Tony. “I promise I won’t tell him,” Tony answers quietly, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach. “Gooooood,” Peter slurs and leans against the elevator wall, his head slowly bobbing along with the music. “I love this song.” “My boyfriend chose it,” Tony mumbles, still shaken by the comment about Uncle Ben. He’s torn between how relaxed, but worryingly drunk Peter is. It’s adorable in a way and it’s not. It’s horrifying to see how the boy has zero feel for the world outside right now. How out of it he is. This is probably the first time the kid’s ever gotten drunk, and he wishes Peter didn’t have to endure all this. With all his heart, Tony wishes the kid won’t remember these conversations in the morning.

“Mister Robert, sir, did you know Tony Stark is very good in bed?” Tony jolts to stand upright, surprised at the sudden remark. “Wh- Really?” “Yes,” Peter beams giddily, “-he fucks me really good. He makes me see stars!” His jaw drops, gasping. “Do you think that’s why he’s called Stark?” “I don’t th-” “‘M-already hard thinking about his cock, that’s how smitten I am.” “Alright kid, time to get you tucked in.” Tony replies, trying not to engage in Peter’s… Conversation about his dick. The elevator doors slide open, and Peter stumbles out, staring around the suite with his eyes wide. “Bedroom’s this way.”

Peter follows him without any hint of protest and Tony is so glad he found his boyfriend before the other dude had the opportunity to take his chance on him. Peter’s so naive. So obedient. Anyone else could’ve taken advantage of the kid’s state so easily. He pushes away the vivid scenarios in his head, showing everything that could’ve happened. Everything that could’ve gone horribly wrong. “Woah!” Peter exclaims when he sees their bedroom. “I can sleep in here?!” “Yes, go on, get nice and comfy, I’ll take the couch. See you in the morning.” Tony turns around to walk out, not wanting to intrude on Peter’s safe space now that Tony isn’t perceived to be his boyfriend. He knows it’d make Peter uncomfortable if he’d stay. But before he leaves, he hears Peter’s soft voice from behind him. “Mister Robert, can you believe it? Cause I can’t sometimes.” “Believe what?” “That Tony Stark likes me?” Tony's heart skips a beat, God, his boy is so sweet and innocent and precious. Please, let him never lose that. "I'm sure he loves you, Peter." "Hmmm, he better, or I'll kick his ass.” Peter chuckles out loud and drops onto the bed. “G’night, Mr. Robert.” He sighs into the pillow. “Sir.” “Goodnight, kid.”

-

Peter wakes up slowly, bright sunlight washing over his face. Oh, man. His head’s exploding. He turns around, trying to evade the brightness and he reaches around for Tony. The sheets are empty and cold, and Peter frowns. Slowly, his eyes flutter open and he’s met with an empty room. He’s alone. He squeezes his eyes shut again. Too much input. He feels nauseous, not enough to make his body throw up, but he’s definitely not doing well. What the fuck happened? “T-Tony?” There’s no response. Peter takes a shaky breath, curling his knees up to his chest and hiding deeper into the comfort of his sheets. “F- F.R.I.D.A.Y., where’s Tony?” “He’s picking up your belongings at your campus dorm.” “My- what now?” “He didn’t specify.”

Peter groans and turns around, reaching out for his phone. Only to find the nightstand empty, except for a bottle of water and a strip of painkillers. Fuck. He still has no clue what’s going on, but at least he knows that he needs to take those meds for the awful thumping in his head. He sits upright and breathes through yet another wave of nausea, and then downs the two pills. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., please tell Tony to come up when he returns.” “I will, Peter.” “Thank you,” he mumbles, laying down again. He tries to think about yesterday. It was a Sunday, right? Meaning it's been Tony’s birthday. Yes. Yes it has been. He remembers giving him the vinyls. Remembers Tony giving him… uh, the sex toy. After that, things get hazy though.

“Hey, kid,” Peter shoots up, realizing he must’ve dozed off again. He groans, his head is still very much hurting him. Tony’s eyeing him carefully. “Tony, what happened?” “Oh, glad you remember me again,” Tony smirks at him, dropping Peter’s backpack onto the floor and then raises his hand, Peter’s phone dangling between his fingers. “You sure took a hit, never thought I’d see you so wasted.” Tony throws him his phone and kicks his shoes off, walking to Peter’s side of the bed and laying down next to him. “How are you feeling?” “Awful.” “Figured. You took the painkillers I left you?” Peter nods, snuggling into Tony, who wraps his arms around him in return. Tony seems a bit standoff-ish, his sarcastic wall pulled back up and Peter wonders if he said anything to him last night. “Tony… What happened?” Peter asks again, carefully. “I don’t remember.” “Good.” Alright, something’s up. Tony sure loves to joke around but he’s never like this. Not around Peter anyways. He’d never joke about Peter feeling sick without reason. He must’ve done something bad that he doesn’t remember. Besides, the drunk story doesn’t make sense to him. He’s never been able to get truly drunk and boy he tried. “How’d I get drunk?” “Vodka.”

Peter bites his lips and takes a deep breath. He really fucked something up here. If he wants Tony to talk, he’s going to have to be patient. He carefully turns around in the man’s embrace, looking up at his face. Tony’s looking down at him, his expression almost unreadable. Almost.

Guilt.

Peter should’ve known. There’s only one thing that makes Tony act like a bit of an asshole towards him. Whatever Peter did, Tony’s feeling guilty about it. So, he carefully reaches out to touch Tony’s face, trailing his fingers across his cheek. “Talk to me?” “There’s nothing to say, kid.” Tony answers curtly. Okay, Peter has a lot of patience, but not this much. His headache is keeping him from being focused and he just doesn’t want to deal with any of this now. He just wants to be in Tony’s arms, quietly feeling loved. This is not quite it yet. “Don’t kid me, not right now, Tony. Something bad happened, and I want to know what. I could ask F.R.I.D.A.Y., but I’d rather talk to you. We both know I don’t get drunk. But I did. Why?” Peter demands. He doesn’t like talking this way, but he’s not leaving Tony to drown in his guilt alone. “Because…” Tony starts, trailing off as he tries to find his words. He isn’t looking up at Peter anymore, his eyes cast away to the walls. “I didn’t realize how bad it was. The… The hormone stuff.” “The what?” Peter asks, his eyes widening. Tony huffs quietly. “First, I need you to tell me the last thing you remember.” Tony’s voice is stern and Peter closes his eyes to think. Blocking out all the bright lights from outside. “We… We had amazing sex,” he says after a while. “Don’t think I ever felt that good.” Tony sniffs and takes a deep breath. “That’s the last thing?” Tony asks, barely believing Peter’s words. The boy nods slowly. There’s nothing else in his mind other than the memory of Tony letting go on top of him. “It is.” “Shit, I-I pushed you too hard, Pete. I got your hormones fucked up, you didn’t have your heightened senses anymore. You told me how bad you felt, and I still talked you into going to Ned’s party. You got drunk and went missing. Ned called me, I picked you up and brought you back home. There, that’s it.”

Peter stares at Tony’s face, squinting his eyes slightly. “That’s it?” “That’s it.” Peter purses his lips, not satisfied with the answer. He makes himself smaller as he looks away from Tony, pressing the top of his head into the man’s chest. “Did…” Peter frowns, trying to figure out the best way to ask it. “Did I hurt anyone?” Tony immediately pushes Peter away from him, forcing the boy to look him in the eye again. “No. You didn’t.” The look on his face is so serious, so worried, that Peter feels tears sting in the back of his eyes. His voice cracks. “Did anyone hurt me?” Tony’s jaw clenches and his eye twitches, causing Peter to suck in his breath. It takes a few seconds for Tony to reply. “Some dick tried to get into your pants,” he mumbles. Peter can tell the man wants to look away from him, but he doesn’t. “He ran off when he saw me.” “Did he-” “He kissed you. Nothing more.” Tony bites the inside of his cheek. “You tried to push him off, but he kissed you.”

It’s Peter who breaks eye contact, looking down again. “I’m sorry…” he whispers softly. Tony pulls him in tight again, the boy immediately softens up against him, curling his arms around Tony’s body. Tony wants to cry. Peter is apologizing for the fact that someone took advantage of his drunk state. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Pete. This is on me.” “I should have known I couldn’t drink as much as I normally do.” Peter’s voice sounds muffled against Tony’s chest. “It’s okay, kid…” Tony takes a breath. “I should’ve listened to you. I’m sorry.” Peter’s fingers press into Tony’s skin through his shirt. “I love you, Tony.” Peter’s shoulders jolt slightly and Tony holds him even tighter. He hates it when Peter cries. The boy doesn’t deserve this pain. Especially since this was not his fault. At all. He presses a soft kiss on Peter’s head and closes his eyes, feeling a dagger pierce his heart as he remembers all the things Peter said yesterday. A part of Tony sees how the drunk Peter he saw yesterday, could’ve been Peter if he hadn’t been Spider-Man, if Uncle Ben hadn’t been murdered. Worried about his Uncle’s opinion like any other regular teenager would. Peter isn’t regular, though. Tony can only hope that his embrace softens the pain, like it always does for him. “I know.”

--- More: Chapter 9  Masterpost